


Not a Love Story in Busan

by meadea



Category: TREASURE (Korea Band)
Genre: Drama & Romance, Friendship/Love, Love/Hate, M/M, Mature JaeSahi, Mature JiKyu, Mature TREASURE Members, Past Relationship(s), Show Business, except for the maknae line
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:29:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 35,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28630302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meadea/pseuds/meadea
Summary: Former child-actor now writer Kim Junkyu embarks on a trip to Busan where he plans to finish his novel. But it seems his past has followed him there—a past that includes long-time arch nemesis, Park Jihoon. And now it looks to Junkyu he’s about to become a character himself in a story he never saw coming. Or did he?
Relationships: Hamada Asahi/Yoon Jaehyuk, Kim Junkyu & Park Jihoon, Kim Junkyu/Kanemoto Yoshinori, Kim Junkyu/Park Jihoon, Watanabe Haruto/Park Jeongwoo
Comments: 58
Kudos: 98





	1. One-Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: This story is purely fictional. The characters depicted in this story don't represent the artists' personality(*coughs*) let alone their sexual orientation and gender identity. Names(except for mentioned brands/labels that are widely known), place, and incidents are entirely just products of my imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, places, or people is coincidental. 
> 
> Teehee~I felt like I just had to do that. But don't worry! This won't bite! Much.

**_Always keep your head down_**. One of the useful lessons Kim Junkyu had learned in his early twenties and something which he still followed and applied in life even now at twenty-eight. And he took that in both figurative and literal sense. It worked for him, had kept him from getting into trouble— _more_ troubles. And, again, even up to this very night, it was still proving to be just as helpful.

Peering into his second glass of margarita, finger tracing the rim of the glass round and round, keeping it on beat with the slow-tempoed but booming music in the club, Junkyu debated whether to leave now or stay—though knowing already deep down that the former would do him more good. 

Leaving, however, presented two problems. One, he might get noticed. Two, he was too curious now to leave.

Junkyu shifted in his seat, then feigned a casual glance to his right, beyond the bobbing heads and dancing hands, toward the big table around which several important-looking people were gathered, laughing, cheering with their glasses up. Only one man— _the man_ in the middle, _the man_ at the center of it all—seemed uninclined, or at least he tried to look like that. But Junkyu had seen _him_ make that _face_ so many times. And even with the calm demeanor _he_ projected, Junkyu could just smell the cockiness and pride that lurked inside. 

With an effort to not roll his eyes, Junkyu looked away before the man could catch him looking. He took a little sip of his margarita instead. And he grimaced. Putting the glass back down, Junkyu decided he had had enough. He was just supposed to have one anyway, because that was all that was going to take for him to get to bed early. And the alcohol did its work in fact as thirty minutes ago, Junkyu was feeling sleepy and was just on the verge of leaving the club.

But that was when Park Jihoon had decided to show up.

Like a mouse scurrying at the sight of a cat, Junkyu had immediately returned to his seat, turning so as to hide his face, and had spent the next hour trying to obscure himself. 

That made him feel pathetic. He was supposed to be enjoying the night—his last night here in Seoul. Now he had nothing but regret for coming here and wished he had just stayed in his condo and finished packing instead. But the dinner he’d had at his grandfather’s house left him unsatisfied and so before coming home, he’d dropped by a diner to eat then took a walk from there and upon seeing the neon sign of the club felt brave for a shot.

He never even drank. He didn’t like it at all. Besides, he had very low tolerance to alcohol. So when the occasion rose, he used it wisely. He used it when he was having insomnia, or when he needed to be up early in the morning but could not because he’d consumed too much coffee during the day. 

That was supposedly what this was all about, and not running into Park Jihoon. _One-Man,_ Park _freaking_ Jihoon.

Cautiously, Junkyu eyed the table again. 

_Why is he in here anyway? Isn’t he busy these days?_

Junkyu raised his glass to his face again but just so he could hide and take liberty at watching Park Jihoon’s table. 

Park Jihoon, Founder and CEO of Magnum Ent., had become, in just a short span of time—three years to be exact—one of the rising underdogs in the field of show business, particularly in the music industry. He had recently been featured in a business magazine whose name Junkyu could not recall, but the other one(the fashion magazine _High-cut_ ), in which Park Jihoon was actually the cover of, was hard to forget. 

As far as Junkyu could remember, Park Jihoon was never exactly a fashion enthusiast. So when Junkyu had first heard of it from another old friend, he was skeptical, mocking even, thinking: _Sure, Park Jihoon has done an amazing job at establishing his very own label company at such a young age, but what does_ High-cut _have to do with that? He can't even tell the difference(however marginal) between Pashmina and Cashmere._

But when Junkyu had finally gotten a copy of the magazine, it turned out there was no need for some deep diving into styling and wardrobe preference in the first place—it didn’t call for that. 

Because they had the young CEO topless for the cover.

_One-Man: Park Jihoon_

_Building Magnum Entertainment from the Ground Up_

That was what was written in bold texts just above Park Jihoon. He was laughing at the camera—or rather at someone who was taking the picture—with one hand placed at the back of his head, his biceps bulging, and his other tucked inside his jean’s pocket.

“Junkyu?”

Junkyu gasped, startled. “Fuck,” he said when he saw who had approached him. “Asahi, you scared the shit out of me.”

The man named Asahi chuckled, standing in front of Junkyu now. “Wait,” he began, “why are you here? I dropped Jaehyuk at your—”

“Take a seat,” said Junkyu, then, “wait, what did you just sa—Jaehyuk’s at the condo?”

“Yeah,” said Asahi amusedly, taking a seat across Junkyu, “wait, I’ll call him,” he fumbled with his phone then placed it against his ear. While waiting for Jaehyuk to pick up, he told Junkyu, “We’ve been trying to reach you. You weren’t pi—hey. I’m with Junkyu right now.”

“I left my phone,” Junkyu mumbled even though he was aware Asahi was no longer listening.

“Yeah, he’s here,” he heard Asahi go on to say, “he left his phone. Just. . . get over here. Yeah, okay. Okay. Bye,” he put down his phone and said, “he’s coming.”

“Oh, god,” said Junkyu, “I’m sorry, you guys. I didn’t—why did Jaehyuk think of coming anyway?”

Asahi chuckled. “He’s more excited than you are,” he said, “but no, seriously we had dinner nearby and he wanted to check on you.”

Junkyu smiled. “We saw each other, like—just four hours ago.”

“He badly wants to leave, too,” said Asahi, “ASAP.”

Junkyu only smiled. Tomorrow he was leaving for Busan, a trip he was supposed to do with Jaehyuk, but the latter had gigs to tend to and would eventually catch up there with Junkyu.

Asahi went on to say, “He said he was anxious about you not being all prepared and stuff, like he was sure you weren’t done packing.”

Junkyu actually laughed, quietly. “I’m not,” he said.

“Is that Park Jihoon?”

Junkyu looked at Asahi, who was now looking toward the direction of the table Junkyu had been furtively eying just minutes ago. Junkyu swallowed but didn’t answer. Playing with the glass, he thought for a moment. 

"It _is_ him," Asahi confirmed himself, nodding, "probably celebrating the success of his new Talent. So fast."

Junkyu looked up. "What do you mean?" He asked Asahi. "He's got. . . new recruit or something?"

"No, it's already past that stage," said Asahi, smiling, "the boy's debuted today. Singer-actor. But before that, he. . . they had him cameo on this Korean Netflix series, then unleashed him to the world one week later, apparently. It's a really good move. He was supposed to debut earlier than that, but held it back until his cameo was aired. Created a small buzz. You know, the usual, _oh, who's that new cute boy_. Then boom. Turns out he's already actually a superstar in the making."

"How do you know all this?"

"Social media," said Asahi, but the sarcasm didn't cut through, "but no, the boy's stylist is a friend of my make-up artist."

"Oh. Wow."

"Yeah," said Asahi, "we talked just earlier today, you know, at—"

"Your photo shoot."

Asahi nodded. "And while she was prepping me, she made me watch the Music Video. And I recognized the boy immediately, because I watched _that_ Netflix series," he chuckled, "and when I kind of pointed out that he looked familiar, she seemed really proud to tell me. She's a fan. And she's worked with the boy once."

"What's his name?"

"Soon Jeon. . ." here Asahi thought, "Song. . . So Junghwan. I think? Yeah. I think that’s it. Wait. Here, take a look," Asahi showed his phone to Junkyu.

Junkyu looked at the photo of So Junghwan and opened his mouth in agreement and fascination. The boy was indeed a piece of art. Just the kind that everybody would love for certain.

"He looks really young," said Junkyu, "but also not. Wow."

"A good investment, huh," said Asahi.

"Smart one," Junkyu chuckled, returning Asahi's phone.

"Park Jihoon knows exactly what kind of Talent his company needs," said Asahi.

Junkyu nodded, biting his lip. Then, slowly, he cast another careful glance toward Park Jihoon. He wore a black tailored jacket-suit over a white round-necked shirt, which by the looks of it were untucked, making him look younger than he really was and modern. His pants matched his suit-jacket. He had dyed his hair in silver white, which only intensified his sharp features and his slightly dark hooded eyes. 

And those eyes caught and met Junkyu's. 

Eye's widening in surprise, Junkyu's heart skipped a beat and he immediately looked away, wishing he had only imagined it.

"Are you not going to finish that?" He heard Asahi say.

"What?"

Asahi pointed at his margarita.

"Oh, no, here," said Junkyu, nudging it toward Asahi, who, smiling, took it in one swig.

"Sahi, let's just meet Jaehyukie outside," said Junkyu.

"Oh, okay."

Junkyu slid from his chair, then upon seeing Asahi just tailing behind him, started toward the exit, his head cast down, face slightly turned to the opposite side from Park Jihoon's table, and pretending to be fascinated at the wall.

Only when they were finally outside and the nightbreeze hit his face did Junkyu let out a long breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

"Should we wait here?" asked Asahi. "I'll call him."

"No," said Junkyu, "I mean, go ahead, but tell him we'll meet him along the way. Let's walk."

"Oh, okay," said Asahi, following Junkyu as he called Jaehyuk. "Hi. Are you out of the bui—oh, okay. No, we left the club, we're walking now. Yeah, see you."

Junkyu smiled apologetically at Asahi. "Poor Jaehyukie," he said, "I'm going to treat him to an Ice cream."

Asahi smiled. "Don't worry about it," he said, "and I don't think he'd take up the offer. He's got a photoshoot tomorrow."

Junkyu's smile broadened. "Right," he said, "I keep forgetting I'm friends with supermodels."

Asahi actually chuckled. "We don't use that term anymore."

Junkyu frowned at him, smiling, "What then?"

" _Influencers_ ," smiled Asahi, and even he sounded embarrassed saying it.

Junkyu chuckled. "Noted."

In five minutes, Junkyu and Asahi began to see Jaehyuk from a distance. He seemed to have seen them, too, for he waved. Smiling broadly, Junkyu waved back. 

When finally they had all caught up, Jaehyuk hugged Junkyu, laughing. "So sorry," said Junkyu.

"Why were you at a club?"

Junkyu smiled sheepishly. "Just. . . marking my freedom."

Jaehyuk smiled at that. "Oh, well," he said, "you deserve a break. So, you're done packing, right? Did you call that. . . _boy_?"

“I did,” said Junkyu, “this morning.”

“Okay,” said Jaehyuk, “he’s picking you up, right?”

Junkyu nodded. 

“And you’re done packing, right?”

“Yeah,” Junkyu lied, smiling, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Asahi look away and smile. “What’s this all about?”

Jaehyuk let out an embarrassed smile. “Nothing,” he said shyly, “I mean. . . you were gone for so long and New York made you forgetful, so. . .”

Junkyu chuckled, making a face. “No, it didn’t,” he said.

“Well, it made you lazy,” said Jaehyuk. Then when Junkyu didn’t answer again Jaehyuk hugged him instead. And Junkyu, giggling, hugged him back, lifting his younger friend up. “You just came back and you’re leaving again,” said Jaehyuk when they broke away.

“Stop it, Jaehyuk,” said Junkyu, “you’re coming after a week.”

“Yeah, but it’s just—I want us to hang out now,” said Jaehyuk, “every day.”

“Don’t say that in front of your boyfriend,” said Junkyu, glancing at Asahi who was looking at them both with an amused look.

“He knows I love you more,” Jaehyuk told Junkyu. 

Junkyu smiled at Asahi, who said, “I’ll change his mind tonight.”

Looking at Jaehyuk, Junkyu feigned a gasp, smiling. Jaehyuk, on the other hand, simply looked at Asahi. Whether he was threatening him or not, Junkyu couldn’t tell, because Jaehyuk’s face was never made to look angry. 

Laughing, Junkyu finally said, “You guys get going. It’s,” he checked his watch, “oh, god, nine-thirty.”

“Come on,” said Jaehyuk, tugging Junkyu by the shoulder. They started walking.

“Oh, is your car. . .”

“Yes,” said Asahi.

They bade goodbye just in front of the building five more minutes later. Junkyu had insisted that he see them leave before getting inside, but Jaehyuk was more persistent. So after one last long hug, Junkyu entered the building, waving one last time at his friends.

As soon as Junkyu was inside his room, he set out to finish packing, the excitement only sinking in now as he did. As he began to add more clothes, he realized he needed to rearrange the contents to maximize space. And as he sat cross-legged on the floor, refolding clothes, his mind wandered back to that first time he’d come to Busan. He’d been twenty-two or twenty-three. But as soon as Junkyu’s thoughts drifted to the person’s face responsible for that trip, he shook them off, took a deep breath and continued folding.

That was when he heard his phone chime.

Only remembering now that he had left it, Junkyu got to his feet and picked it up from the bedside table for the first time again today. Jaehyuk had sent him a message.

_Hey! I found these really good facial masks at a nearby store. They’ll help with the sea-air. U need em! We’re coming back! Hihihi._

Smiling, Junkyu set down his phone then sat back down again to finish folding. He didn’t know how long he’d been doing that when he heard a knock on the door. Smiling again, he stood up and walked up to the door and opened it. “You’re—”

But he stopped, and his smile dropped. It wasn’t Jaehyuk.

“Hi.”

Junkyu blinked. Then swallowing, he managed, almost breathlessly, “Jihoon.”

Park Jihoon flashed what looked like a smile.

Junkyu looked on, but he began to fidget. He couldn’t quite grasp the situation—the man in front of him. 

For the past years, Park Jihoon to him had become someone he’d met a very long time ago, had become just another stranger, almost a mythical figure. And just half an hour ago, even though he was just a distance away from Junkyu, he had still looked like a _figure_ —like that same figure on the magazine—and not a real person.

And now he was here, standing in front of Junkyu, and the whiff of his expensive cologne was only magnifying his very presence.

“I see you also live around here,” said Junkyu’s uninvited guest.

Junkyu pulled himself together. “Yeah, um. . . what. . . what brings you here? Are you—”

“You.”

Junkyu blinked again. Then he let out a chuckle. “What ar—”

“I saw you at the club.”

“Oh,” said Junkyu, then looking away, “I didn’t realize you would—you were there.”

Jihoon didn’t say anything, only looked at Junkyu. He leaned his shoulder against the doorframe. Junkyu’s face began to heat up.

“It’s been awhile,” said Jihoon, “you live alone?”

“I do,” said Junkyu.

“When did you arrive in Korea?”

“Three days ago,” said Junkyu. Then, finally mustering some self-control, he said, “do you have a friend that lives around here? Did you—”

“No,” said Jihoon, cutting him, giving him a look that told he knew what Junkyu was trying to do, “I followed you.”

Junkyu didn’t know what to say. Then realizing the older man wasn’t getting casual any time soon, he glowered, saying, “What do you want, Jihoon?”

Jihoon looked at him, then he smirked. “There he is,” he said, standing straight again, “the Junkyu I know.”

Junkyu pursed his lips. “Sorry, I can’t invite you in,” he said, holding the doorknob now, “I have a lot to do.”

Junkyu didn’t know what he was expecting Jihoon would say, but he certainly didn’t expect what was about to happen.

Jihoon stepped forward and cupped Junkyu’s cheek, saying, “Now, don’t hurt my feelings.”

Junkyu averted his face, gently taking Jihoon’s hand off it. When he looked at him again, his mouth was just opening to say something, but that was also when he saw past Jihoon, to the far end of the hall, the elevator doors opening and from it emerged Jaehyuk.

Jihoon turned to see what had gotten Junkyu’s attention. When he looked at Junkyu again, he had a smirk on his face. 

Junkyu saw Jaehyuk wave his hand, and as he walked closer he could also see the slight curiosity in his face. When he did reach the door and see who Junkyu’s guest was, he slowed and cast a sideway glance toward Junkyu, as though he was asking Junkyu for an explanation. But Junkyu himself was lost for one.

It was Jihoon who spoke first. “Hi.”

“Hi, Ji. . .” said Jaehyuk reluctantly, “Mr. Park,” then to Junkyu he handed a small paper bag, “um, here’s what’s promised,” he smiled at Junkyu. 

Junkyu took the chance. “Thanks, Jaehyuk,” he said, and he was just about to make up an excuse to invite Jaehyuk in but Jihoon beat him to it. 

“Mr. Yoon,” he said, “why don’t you drop by our office one time, we need you.”

Jaehyuk smiled shyly at Jihoon, evidently not knowing how to react to that. He looked at Junkyu, who tried to smile. Junkyu opened his mouth.

“That’s really kind, Mr. Park,” said Jaehyuk, “I, uh. . . I will. . . I will certainly do, I guess, um. Junkyu, I better get going, Asahi’s waiting. Bye! Bye, Mr. Park! Pleasure meeting you!”

Gaping, Junkyu waved his hand and could only watch Jaehyuk leave. Jihoon waved, smiling.

When Jaehyuk had disappeared into the elevator again, Jihoon looked at Junkyu. And what he said next froze Junkyu. “I see you still use people to get you. . . _things_ ,” he said.

Junkyu swallowed. He kept his poise. “I’m really sorry,” he began, “but I really need to finish something.”

“Of course,” said Jihoon.

And if Junkyu was being honest, that was not the reply he expected from the other man.

“Nice to see you again,” Jihoon went on, “Kyu.” 

When Jihoon had turned away, Junkyu began to close the door. But before fully closing it, he gave in and looked at the man’s retreating figure. Junkyu gulped. And he did the unthinkable. Opening the door again, he called Jihoon, who turned. He waited for Junkyu to say something, but Junkyu could only blink.

Then, slowly, blushing, Junkyu opened the door wide open.

And the corner of Jihoon's mouth curled upwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What I wasn't able to do in One Way Love was have ALL TREASURE Members in that fic. But it was heavily centered around Jikyu's relationship, or more specifically, fixing it.
> 
> So for this one, it's what I'm most excited about: bringing all TREASURE Members together(but not really together???) You'll see:> If u want us to be moots on twitter, I'm @kyukemon ^^
> 
> For now. . . THOUGHTS? ><


	2. Trouble in the Second City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have proceeded, hello. Mature(bats eyelashes) jikyu ahead u guys. For the pups, make sure you steer clear of ur mom. Or do it the other way around.

Danger had never smelled this good. And though Junkyu knew better, he’d still clung on to it anyway, like a butterfly to a flower. Well, damn Park Jihoon and his stupid cologne, mingling with his sweat, the tequilla in his breath and whatever it was he had put on in his hair. And damn his too welcoming arms.

_You’re screwed, Junkyu._

Slowly, Junkyu fluttered his eyes open. It was dark. He breathed in, breathed out. He could feel the warmth(but also coldness) on which he’d laid his face, his hand. It was soft, and it was hard. He blinked his eyes some more, and he began to see, in the darkness: the outline of Jihoon’s body, the slight upheaving form of his chest, curving down to his flat stomach. Junkyu moved his hand placed right at the older man’s abdomen, to feel if it was real—or really to just. . . feel.

_Get your head out of the clouds. You’ve crossed the line._

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Junkyu began to roll away from Jihoon, but then his breath hitched as he was grabbed back onto the hardness of the older man’s body, and Junkyu's lips hit the cold skin of Jihoon's chest. Blinking his eyes against the darkness, Junkyu could now feel Jihoon breathing down at him again, his strong arms wrapping tightly around him, enclasping the whole of him. 

_When did he become so powerful, so. . . big?_

"Why are you awake?" Jihoon whispered, and Junkyu was reminded of a younger Jihoon right there, whose voice, weirdly, changed and deepened when he'd just woken up.

Junkyu bit his lower lip, wet it as he tried to think. But he found it harder to reach a decision with Jihoon's bare skin on his.

Junkyu blushed, and though he knew that the latter could not see it, he knew too that the heat of his body would give _it_ all away.

"You should. . ." Junkyu began. _Leave._

Light.

Junkyu squinted his eyes. Jihoon had switched the bedside lamp on, and now Junkyu was watching Jihoon sit up, the covers sliding down to his waist, and lower.

Junkyu looked away, rolled away as he pulled the covers up to his chin. He looked down at the floor and saw his shirt there. Quickly he picked it up and put it on. When he glanced at Jihoon, the latter looked away, but he had a small, confident smile on his face. Which irked Junkyu. _Cocky bastard_. Looking away himself, Junkyu rolled his eyes. He began to leave.

"I want to show you something," said Jihoon suddenly. 

Junkyu stopped, and after a moment, looked at Jihoon. The latter was now holding his phone, and Junkyu was expecting to be shown a photo or something. And he was right. With a small smile tugging at his lips, Jihoon passed to him his phone. Junkyu simply looked at it at first, then to Jihoon. And Junkyu could have stared at him longer if not for the embarrassing realization that Jihoon must think he was enjoying _the_ _sight_ now. So he grabbed the phone and turned away from the older man. But Jihoon had only leaned closer, breathing at Junkyu’s hair now.

Trying to focus, Junkyu looked at the photo. It was not a photo taken by a mobile camera, but rather a developed photo someone seemed to have placed on a table and took a picture of. Junkyu’s mouth slowly opened.

The photo was of his younger self. . . and Jihoon. They were at the beach. Junkyu was sitting cross-legged on the stand, his lips slightly pulled into a small smile while Jihoon was crouched behind him, both arms slung over Junkyu’s shoulders. He was grinning at the camera. 

Junkyu blinked. Was this some kind of a joke? Was the universe toying with him? Swallowing, and without looking at Jihoon, Junkyu returned the other man’s phone, saying, and not really wanting an answer, “Where’d you get that?”

And when Jihoon didn’t speak, Junkyu had to turn. 

Jihoon was setting his phone back onto the bedside table. Then, looking at Junkyu through cold eyes, but with a smile on his lips, “From a friend of a man you betrayed me with.”

Speechless, Junkyu turned away. A moment of painful silence stretched until Junkyu, who could now actually feel himself heat up, began to get off the bed. 

Jihoon stopped him by the arm. And Junkyu almost jumped out of his skin from the touch. When he turned to look at Jihoon, the latter was smiling again, as if nothing had just happened. 

“I’m just messing with you,” said Jihoon, chuckling.

Though his lips were sealed, Junkyu was breathing heavily. He thought of snapping back at Jihoon, of yelling at him, of explaining himself. . . but he simply and quietly pulled his arm free instead, then swung his feet off the bed and, picking up the rest of his clothes, headed for the bathroom.

As soon as he had closed the door behind him, he threw his clothes into the tub and stood over the sink, breathing, looking at himself in the mirror. He took another deep breath. 

_Here you are, trying to get away from trouble, but it seems trouble’s running after you_.

Feeling the weariness now, Junkyu washed his face and gently slapped his cheeks a few times. When he was fully clothed again, he came out of the bathroom, his mouth just opening to say something but went mute when he saw Jihoon standing now and was just pulling up his pants. Junkyu tried to blink away, but Jihoon had already caught him staring. 

“I need to leave,” said Jihoon.

Junkyu was attacked by an urge to scoff at him. _You could have just gone without saying goodbye for all I care._ But Junkyu kept his mouth shut. He was sleepless and he had a trip to tend to in just a few hours. The earlier this was done and over, the better.

As soon as Jihoon had fixed himself, almost impressing Junkyu because now he looked exactly how he’d looked when Junkyu had let him in his room, he walked up to Junkyu and just stood over him, smiling. Junkyu, arms crossed, contested with the other man’s gaze. Then his eyes widened when Jihoon actually leaned forwards to give him a kiss. On the forehead.

Then cupping Junkyu’s chin very briefly, he walked out of the room, leaving Junkyu frozen to the spot. 

Junkyu finally let out an exhausted breath, then with eyes closed, started massaging his neck. Then he huffed and pulled himself together. He checked the time on his phone: _5:46_. He was bound for a nine thirty train and he still hadn’t finalized everything. So, with an effort to ignore the smell Jihoon had left on him, he set out to work.

The train gave a loud stagger. Junkyu, whose head had been leaning against the window, jerked awake. Slightly dazed, he rubbed his forehead then glanced beside him, at the woman—American, he could tell—sitting next to him, sleeping peacefully and undisturbed. 

Junkyu licked his lips and looked outside the window, toward the zooming fat white clouds in the sky. He squinted when the sun glared at him. Shading his eyes, he smiled to himself. 

Aboard the KTX now, Junkyu zipped his hand-carry bag open and saw instantly the two rolls of kimbap he had wrapped with a hanky and had put on top of all of his other stuff there. He had bought them over an hour ago, from a man selling them on a mobile stall outside Seoul Station. He’d planned to reheat and have them when he reached Busan, but his lack of sleep was making him hungrier. And he needed the energy. 

Junkyu took a slice to his mouth, hiding it with his hand and looking toward the window as he munched on his snack. He could have closed his eyes in pleasure. The kimbaps he’d had in New York now seemed to him like nothing other than plastic food. 

Junkyu stopped at three slices, because that was when he felt the woman beside him woke up. He returned the kimbap roll in his bag, pulled his tumbler, unscrewed it and drank from it. As he tucked it back in, he saw out of the corner of his eyes the woman taking out her phone and plugging in her earphones. It looked to Junkyu like her phone’s screen light had been maximized to full so as to contrast the bright sunlight that crept through the window, giving Junkyu a glimpse of the track she was about to play on her Spotify.

Casting a furtive glance toward the woman’s phone now, Junkyu allowed himself to study the Album’s logo, because he thought he recognized the face. When he got a poper look, he found he was right. And on the lower part of the small and squarish logo, layered on top of half of the artist’s face, obscuring the mouth, said: 

**_WHITE TIGER_ **

**_YOSHI’S 3RD FULL ALBUM._ **

Junkyu casually looked away and turned to look outside the window, eyes droopy again. He had just missed a good view of a clear, green river, and his head tilted in a futile attempt to capture it with his eyes, but it was too late. Leaning back in his seat, he now let the zooming trees lull himself back to sleep and thought if he should, like the woman, pull up some music. Maybe he could listen to the _White Tiger Album_ , see for himself if it was even better than the last one. Junkyu smiled.

It seemed only yesterday when he’d first heard of the Japanese rapper rise into Korean stardom and take the Korean hiphop world by a storm. 

And launched Park Jihoon on top of the food chain.

Kanemoto Yoshinori, or who was more popularly known as _Yoshi_ , had been Park Jihoon’s first ever Talent—first ever ‘Magnum’—and the first artist to have put Magnum Entertainment on _top of the list_ . Junkyu remembered how Korean papers had speculated(with insult) how this new agency had just dug its own grave then, calling Park Jihoon and his company a _flop_ before it even began for believing that he could get money from investing on a non-native artist.

And thinking back now, Junkyu remembered himself even sharing the same sentiment. He had been in New York when he first heard of it and he remembered frowning, snorting, thinking: _What was Jihoon thinking by signing a non-Korean artist as his first ticket to Korean Show Business?_

But a week or two later, as he was on his way to work, he’d started hearing a Korean hip hop song playing at a store, and he had thought at first that he was mishearing it. But he had stopped to listen. And the lyrics were indeed in _hangul_. And when he’d finally had the time to indulge his curiosity at lunch time that day, he’d done a little research, suspecting already then that the song was of Park Jihoon’s new artist. And he was right. 

And after a couple of days, the same papers who had criticized Park Jihoon and his new ‘little’ agency had resurfaced, but this time the headlines were short of mock and pity, and had now steered toward a more positive(patronizing) review, praising Park Jihoon for intelligently catering to International fans first as the target audience instead of the traditional promotion of artists in Korea. 

Jihoon’s agency had soared since.

Sighing now, Junkyu checked his phone but found no reception. Still, he opened his Message and languidly reread Jaehyuk’s text-message before he had boarded the KTX.

_Make sure to call that boy as soon as you’ve arrived at the station!_

Junkyu smiled. He was just thirty minutes away from Busan now. And he couldn’t wait to get his feet in the sea salt. Slipping his phone back in his bag, he fell asleep.

Junkyu emerged from the subway forty minutes later and saw right there, just across the station, the white minivan that the _boy_ who was meant to pick him up had described to him. When Junkyu reached him and the minivan, he smiled, shaking the boy’s hand. They had already talked via phone call and video chat but Junkyu had forgotten his name.

When he’d first gotten the boy’s contact number, Junkyu had simply named him as _‘BUSAN’_ , which, though Junkyu tried to deny it, reminded him more of someone else than the boy every time his phone rang and it flashed the name.

"Hi, are you. . .'' Junkyu said, smiling, looking past the boy to the ederly man inside the minivan, sitting on the driver's seat, "oh, right," Junkyu chuckled, "I thought you're driving."

The boy flashed him a big smile, and said, almost as an afterthought, “Welcome to Busan.”

Junkyu smiled kindly, mumbling a quiet ‘thank you’. Then, funnily enough, the boy’s name came back to him, and so louder this time, he said, “Thank you, Jeongwoo. Jeongwoo, right? Or am I mist—”

“Yes,” said the boy, nodding his head, “it’s Jeongwoo. Park Jeongwoo,” he looked at Junkyu’s hand-carry bag and offered to take it. Though Junkyu could have simply hauled it into the van himself, he let the boy take it. “I thought you were bringing a loa—”

“Yeah, I. . .” Junkyu blushed, “well, not to sound like. . . I mean there are good shopping places here, so. . . I, uh. . .”

“That’s really wise,” said the boy, which surprised Junkyu, but he listened on, “a lot of tourists come here for shopping and their mistake lay in the fact that they bring too many clothes, so now when they leave their baggage is coupled. Or more.”

Amused(and relieved), Junkyu smiled. 

“Do you have anything to grab before we leave?” asked Jeongwoo.

Junkyu blinked at first, then said, “Oh, I don't think so, I brought snacks—oh well, how about you guys? Let me get somet—”

“Oh, no, please, we’re loaded,” chuckled the boy, “so, shall we go?”

Junkyu nodded with a smile. When the two of them had hopped on the van. Jeongwoo introduced the driver to Junkyu, and vice versa. Then they took off. 

Though he had very little sleep last night, Junkyu found his spirits lifted just by the mere idea that he was finally here in Busan. Again. He spent the next thirty minutes talking to the boy Jeongwoo, who he found out was only sixteen years old. And very smart.

“To be honest,” Junkyu began, “when I first learned of. . . the cabin, I really had to, like double-check, like I was afraid it was just some kind of a front to a. . . well, you know.”

Jeongwoo only smiled at him.

Junkyu went on to say, “And I was surprised when it was you who started contacting me and talking to me,” he smiled here, “because it was your aunt who I had initially talked to about the, uh, reservation and payment and all that stuff. . .”

“Yeah,” said Jeongwoo, “she had to leave for Iksan, but she’ll be back.”

“So are you the only one. . .”

“Me, Mr. Lee,” Jeongwoo pointed at the driver, “and Mrs. Kang, the care-taker. She comes every day. I mean, just every morning.”

“Oh.”

Junkyu would be staying in a cabin at a 'quiet' neighborhood in Yeongdo, which was owned by a family friend who had gone on a summer vacation abroad. Junkyu wanted to express to the boy how lucky he felt for finding the cabin and successfully renting it for himself. But he realized just as quickly that he wasn’t that lucky at all, because if his cousin had not helped him get to and talk to the owners, the cabin would not have been allowed to be vacated at all, as it was a private property. So Junkyu slept the remaining time on their way to Yeongdo instead.

He was awakened by a tap on the shoulder. When he blinked his eyes open, he found the minivan had already stopped.

"We're here," he heard Jeongwoo say, smiling at him.

Out of the vehicle now, Junkyu found himself looking at a two-storey house of what he could tell of good solid timbre, accented by pastel colors of blue( _or is it gray?_ ) and what looked to Junkyu like cantaloupe or peach. Separated, they would have all looked strangely, but together, weirdly, it made the house look warm and modern, despite the rustiness of the exterior.

"It's. . . even more beautiful in person," said Junkyu to Jeongwoo, who smiled and began to lead him inside. 

Once inside the house, Junkyu was then led upstairs, into his room. It was bigger than he'd imagined but what he'd really noticed first was the circular coffee table situated by the corner of the room and overlooking one of the windows, which should allow him to see the distant portion of the beach and the dock. Junkyu smiled at Jeongwoo.

"I'm. . ." Junkyu began, but no word came out.

Jeongwoo chuckled at him. "I'll be right across your room," he said, "the door we passed by, that's me. You can always call me."

"Thank you so much, Jeongwoo," said Junkyu, patting the boy on the shoulder.

"I'll leave you now," said Jeongwoo.

Junkyu smiled. "Thank you."

When Jeongwoo had closed the door behind him, Junkyu stood in front of the window, watching the distant sea, the rocky banks. . . a small, satisfied smile crept on his lips. And for some reason, the photo Jihoon had showed him hours ago began to move, and now he was watching himself quietly sitting on the sand, thinking—of what he could no longer remember—and then suddenly someone had startled him from behind, but Jihoon had always worn that typical college boys' cologne, so he had recognized him immediately, then suddenly Jihoon was calling. . . he was calling _someone_ to take a picture of them. And then—

A knock.

Blinking, Junkyu turned and walked up to the door. He opened it and saw Jeongwoo again. Junkyu smiled and looked curiously.

"Sorry," said Jeongwoo, holding up his hand with a key, "this is yours. Key to your room."

"Oh, thank you, Jeongwoo," said Junkyu. Then when Jeongwoo waa just leaving again, Junkyu added, "Jeongwoo, I, uh. . . Would you like to come with me tonight? For dinner? My treat," Junkyu smiled shyly, "and I want to stroll around."

Jeongwoo smiled at him. "Sure."

Later that night, Mr. Lee drove Junkyu and Jeongwoo to the town, the busier part of Yeongdo, and Junkyu spent the short trip feeling guilty because it seemed to him he was starting to become a burden and too much of a guest. And he didn't want that. So upon reaching the cozy, local restaurant Jeongwoo had suggested, Junkyu made a mental note of asking Jeongwoo where he could rent a bicycle he could use for strolling around the town, after the dinner. 

Junkyu treated his two new friends, (Me. Lee needed convincing). Having finally taken at least four hours of sleep, Junkyu was now more chatty around them. He found talking to Jeongwoo really enjoyable because he seemed smarter for his age, and he talked of things that Junkyu remembered he wouldn't even begin to fathom when he was at the same age as him. 

"But do you plan to explore all of Busan?" Jeongwoo was asking. "There's nothing much here."

 _Exactly my reason_.

Junkyu nodded, chewing, "I do," he said, "but I just need to start writing first."

"I haven't read any of your books yet," said Jeongwoo.

Junkyu chuckled. "It's. . . I have just one, actually," he said, "I—kind of like—started. I've published only one."

Then for Mr. Lee, a short, stocky man, spoke, "But I thought you wrote for work, Mr. Kim?"

"I did," said Junkyu, "for a. . . um, a Magazine. I only started my novel a year before I quit my _real_ job."

After finishing, the three of them remained sitting for a while with Jeongwoo and Mr. Lee now sharing a laugh, while Junkyu excused himself to pick up Jaehyuk's call. 

"Hi," laughed Junkyu over the call once he was outside the restaurant, "I'm sorry, I totally forgot to call. I slept the whole afternoon."

"It's okay," said Jaehyuk, "but did everything go well? How was the trip? How's the cabin?"

Junkyu laughed some more, and there wasn't even a reason for him to do so, "It's not a cabin at all," he giggled, "it's a. . . house! It's. . . big!"

"Are you drunk?"

"No, of course not!" Junkyu laughed. He looked behind him, "It's just. . . they're wonderful people, Jaehyukie. I can't wait for you to get here and meet them—you know what, I feel we're going to have a good time here."

Jaehyuk was quiet.

"Hello?" said Junkyu. "Jae are you still there?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

"Something wrong?" said Junkyu, his smile slowly disappearing now. Was Jaehyuk about to say he's not coming? "Are you not coming?" Junkyu blurted.

"No, I am, god," said Jaehyuk, chuckling now, "it's just. . . I don't. . . Did you know?"

Junkyu frowned. "What?"

There was a pause, then, Jaehyuk said, "Park Jihoon's also in Busan."

Junkyu was quiet for awhile. He already knew that. Jihoon had told him last night. Jihoon, however, didn't know Junkyu was here.

"Oh," was Junkyu's only response.

"But he's probably on the other side of the city," said Jaehyuk, sounding like he was trying to reassure Junkyu. "Asahi's coming."

Glad for the shift in topic, Junkyu gasped, "Really? What changed?"

He heard Jaehyuk chuckle. "He dropped the deal with the ad," he said, "he found out it was sponsored by a government official he didn't like."

Junkyu laughed. He knew that was. And he remembered how Asahi had corrected him last night. 

_Influencer_.

"I love Asahi," said Junkyu, giggling.

"I know right," said Jaehyuk, "but he gets too serious sometimes. It's just work!"

Junkyu laughed. "The man has principles," he said, "you should feel blessed."

"Every night," said Jaehyuk. 

Junkyu laughed even more. When finally they had ended the call, Junkyu turned to get back inside the restaurant, but he bumped into a woman.

Junkyu immediately muttered an apology, blushing. "Oh, god, really, I'm sorry."

The woman was looking at him now, and frowning. Junkyu's heart was beating faster, just waiting for her now to yell at him, even though he had already realized that it was the same woman he sat next to on the train. And her reaction surprised Junkyu.

"I was right," she said, slightly chuckling, "I know you."

Junkyu smiled shyly. "Yeah, I think we were seatmates on the KTX and—"

"No," said the woman, "I mean yes, we were. And to be honest when I saw you earlier I thought you looked familiar."

Junkyu looked on, waiting. He watched her take out something from her tote bag. She procured a book. A book Junkyu knew too well. When she flipped to the back to show Junkyu his photo, Junkyu smiled shyly.

"Oh, my god," said the woman, giggling now, "I don't have a pen, but can we. . . take a photo together?"

Smiling, Junkyu said, "Oh, it would be my pleasure."

After taking a photo with her holding up the book to her chest and Junkyu pointing at it with a small smile, Junkyu expressed how happy he felt at meeting a reader here in Busan.

"I just found this out a month ago," said the woman, "but I haven't finished it yet. Too busy. But I'll be finishing it here."

Junkyu thought for a moment. He probably shouldn't say it, but he felt he could trust her. "It's funny," he said, "because I'm also here to finish the sequel. But I hope we can keep that as a secret."

The woman gasped. "Oh, my god! Seriously?"

Junkyu smiled. "But I really need for you to promise me not to hint at it," Junkyu said pleadingly, but with a smile.

"Of course!" she exclaimed, smiling, "But can I get a signed copy when it's done?"

Junkyu blushed. "You will be first."

As the woman thanked her, they hugged, and before she left, Junkyu asked for a copy of their photo together. Then finally she was gone.

And as he stood there to study the photo again, he found himself smiling. He looked at the cover of his book, as if seeing it for the first time. Something about meeting a reader made him feel that way, like he had just written it again. He scoffed at himself. Before finally getting back inside, he read the title like, again, he was reading it for the first time: _One Way Love._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OWL's JiKyu: Thought you've seen the last of us?
> 
> Anyway, I feel like I've put too much in this chapter but that's only bcos there's more coming and i need to lay all the PIECES asap! heh heh.


	3. Traces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEADS UP U GUYS! In this fic, Junkyu is writing a sequel to his 1st published novel called One Way Love. The same one that I wrote. But also not? It’s like this: imagine it’s the same, just with different characters(but still centered around two male characters namely David & Jun *giggles like a witch*). 
> 
> And same story line. So whatever Junkyu ends up writing in his sequel WILL BE the sequel to OWL. But it will come in occasional conversations and flash narration. And said sequel will pick up on that last traffic scene from Two-Way Street. But don’t stress just yet. It will all make sense eventually.
> 
> Now onto the chapter!

Park Jihoon was never the man to dwell on his emotions—never the one to overthink. He just simply didn't allow such distractions. So when he did indulge himself, he went deep—and it was unintentional. Like this very moment: so deep was he in thought that without realizing, he had pressed the cutter of the electric shaver too hard against his chin, causing a mild electric shock.

Jihoon cursed inwardly. Quickly setting down the shaver, he let the faucet run, scooped a handful of water and splashed it onto his chin, mainly to wash away the electrifying sensation the shaver had left his skin there. 

Stepping away from the sink now, Jihoon ruffled his wet hair, gave one last look of his face in front of the mirror, then walked out of the bathroom. 

Jihoon began to look for his phone. He spotted it lying on a low table beside an unfilled vase by the door. But instead of walking up to it, he went for his luggage, flipped it open and picked a clean white shirt to put on. Then he picked up his phone.

The first message made him smile. It was from one of his people back in Seoul:

 _They're on the move._

Grinning now, he replied:

_Ready team._

He threw his phone on the mattress and clothed himself fully, then sat at a table and started working at his laptop. A week had now passed since he’d arrived in Busan, and he’d never felt so foreign in his home. He hardly left his hotel room, and when he did go out, it was to check or recheck a location one of his teams was preparing for a project. He’d do _business_ within the hotel itself, meeting with his teams and his Talents.

Jihoon was particularly watchful of the _newblood_ , So Junghwan, a team was prepping for a new music for the summer. Jihoon was not obliged to keep an eye on any of his Talent—he had people to do that job—or the projects they were involved in, but the boy was the youngest Talent his agency had ever handled, and the youngest among all others in the _house_ at present. 

Times had changed. With all these new start-up agencies popping and debuting young and talented artists almost every day, there was much work required for Jihoon's agency now to put on if he wished to stay on top of the game. He had only just begun, there was no time for him to get comfortable and slack off just because some magazines had proclaimed he'd _made it_ now. It didn’t work like that. _It's still business, and it's a constant battle._

Even more so now that Jihoon seemed to have detected a formidable competition among all these new agents trying to join the club and wanting to share the ladder. 

Jihoon smiled. He'd always loved a challenge. As a matter of fact, he sometimes fed on it.

Distracted now, Jihoon pushed away from the table and stood up to pour himself tea. He then walked up to the glass window from where he watched the stretch of Haeundae beach and the barely clothed people coming to and fro, some of them hidden by big—or not so big from this spot—umbrellas, some of them half-sunk in the water, submerging then emerging and back. But slowly, these people and the beach were becoming no more than just a canvass of a painting, blurring now, and Jihoon's mind floated back to what had so distracted him from shaving just several minutes ago. 

_Kim Junkyu._

Jihoon had only found out four days after he'd arrived in Busan that Junkyu was also in the city. And the information came to him in the most bizarre way. 

Though he understood how Instagram operated, Jihoon's surprise when he'd seen the photo of a woman standing next to Junkyu outside a familiar restaurant in Yeongdo appearing in his Suggestion feed was unprecedented. When he'd tapped to see the photo, he'd found out that it was uploaded—at which point the photo was already four days old—the very day he'd arrived in Busan. It was as if the post was there to say: _in case you missed._

Jihoon smiled ruefully. Why Junkyu didn't say that he was also coming to Busan was lost on him. And Jihoon couldn't even be resentful at him. 

Because it was him who had come at Junkyu's door, and it was him who had stripped himself naked of his guard. 

_Well played, Junkyu._ _As always._

Drawing back a sigh, Jihoon walked back to the bed to pick up his phone. He called someone, and it lasted for two minutes or so. After that, he called another. 

“Yes, hello,” said Jihoon, once the Receptionist of the hotel picked up, “this is Park Jihoon. Yes. I’d like to follow up on a dinner reservation, will you pass on the—Yes, oh that's great. Uh, I'd like to add another name on the list. A guest of mine. Mhm. Yes. . . It's Hamada Asahi. _Ha_ mada, yes, that's correct. Thank you. Okay.”

Jihoon chucked his phone into his pocket then walked back to the window, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Then, taking in once again the breath-taking view of the Haeundae beach and the people populating it at the moment, he chuckled to himself.

_Let's play, Junkyu._

If there was one thing Junkyu had not expected from this little _retreat_ of his, it was getting close with and finding himself enjoying the company of a sixteen-year old boy whose age it seemed had failed to catch up with his maturity.

Junkyu had spent the whole week writing in his room, coffee beside his MacBook, sitting by the window, overlooking the outskirts of Busan—and amazingly enough, this was how he’d imagined it all the first time he’d laid eyes on this room. Except he didn’t see in his imagination that while he’d be writing, a teenager would be sitting across him, quietly reading _his book_.

Since the last time Junkyu had talked about his book on that local restaurant, Jeongwoo seemed to have developed a curiosity around it and had even bravely asked Junkyu if he had a copy he had brought with him that he could borrow. 

“To be honest, Jeongwoo,” Junkyu had said, “I don’t think it’s for you.”

“Why, because it’s written in English?” the boy had playfully asked.

"No, it’s not that,” he had kindly responded, “it’s just. . . the subject matter. . .”

“I _checked_ ,” said Jeongwoo, smiling, “I know what it’s about.”

And so the next morning, though still with reservations, Junkyu had lent Jeongwoo his kindle. 

Though Junkyu would normally have preferred writing alone, Jeongwoo's added presence, surprisingly, put him in a happier mood, and he suspected that that was because he felt Jeongwoo's youthful energy had rubbed off on him, helping his mind write with enthusiasm while still maintaining the solitariness the voice of the story required. 

But maybe, Junkyu thought, Jaehyuk's impending arrival had also contributed to his excitement and, ironically, peace of mind. Not a day went by since the last few days that Junkyu did not look forward to Tuesday of the next(which was today) calling Jaehyuk every day, counting down with him the remaining days until he'd catch up. And today was the day. 

Which reminded Junkyu of something.

Leaning back in his seat, he pulled his feet to the chair, hugged them, and said, smiling, "So, Jeongwoo," and the boy looked up, "you're only here because. . . I am?"

Jeongwoo nodded in response, though still looking Junkyu through his round glasses, waiting, curious as to where Junkyu's question was heading to.

"So, if I hadn't, um. _. . rented_ it," Junkyu went on, "this house would have been. . . left with. . . There'd be nobody here."

"Yeah," said Jeongwoo. "But Mrs. Kang would still check in every morning."

Junkyu wanted to say that the house would still be left unguarded at night then, but then realized that that would imply that he thought of this neighborhood unsafe, which, so far in his one week stay here, proved the exact opposite. So instead of pointing that out, Junkyu inwardly cursed and reminded himself that he was no longer in America.

"Oh, right," he said, then finally getting to his real intention with this conversation, "so you can come if I asked you to, right?"

Jeongwoo looked up again, this time the eyes behind the glasses narrowing. 

Junkyu smiled. "My friends are coming today," he said, "but they've decided to check in on a hotel for a while. In Haeundae?"

"So they're not coming here?" 

"Oh, they are," Junkyu said immediately. "It's just that one of them's. . . got, um, a _gig_ to tend to first. Something like that."

"Oh, they're in a band?"

Junkyu chuckled. "No," he said, "models."

At the back of Junkyu's head, he could just hear Asahi say, _Influencers._

"Oh."

"Yeah, so," Junkyu continued, "if you would like to come?"

There was a momentary pause, during which Jeongwoo stared at Junkyu with assessing eyes. Then, the boy chuckled, saying, “Oh, you’re serious.”

“Yeah,” said Junkyu, and to further keep Jeongwoo away from the idea of feeling embarrassed and unsure, he added immediately, “I mean we could really use your help. None of us has ever been to Busan.”

Which was, of course, a lie, at least for Junkyu’s part. But Jaehyuk and Asahi were totally first timers.

“Well,” said Jeongwoo, tilting his head now, “I’ve only been to Haeundae once. But, uh, do you have a place there where we. . . you guys could stay in?”

“We’ve booked a hotel,” Junkyu smiled sheepishly.

“Oh.”

“It’s a three day stay,” said Junkyu, “and two nights. Come on, Jeongwoo. It will be fun.”

Jeongwoo showed an awkward smile. “I think I’ll just stay here, hyung.”

Junkyu smiled inside. It was only after two to three days since he'd arrived here in Yeongdo did he start to notice Jeongwoo finally addressed him as his 'hyung'. Though Junkyu was tempted to ask why this was the case, he chose to keep his mouth shut, not wanting to embarrass the boy. 

"There's a lot going on in Haeundae these days," said Junkyu, leaning further forwards, smiling, "think what you're going to miss."

Jeongwoo stared at Junkyu, then his smile stretching, becoming genuine. Then becoming shy again, "It's. . ." Jeongwoo began, ". . . I don't have. . . you just enjoy yourselves, hyung. I have your book here with me," he said this with a false jolliness, holding the book up, shaking it.

"I know you're in the Epilogue now, Jeongwoo," said Junkyu.

Jeongwoo dropped the book and burst out laughing. Junkyu watched in amusement at the teenager's quick shift of moods. But he waited, though he thought he already knew what was holding back the boy, to which Junkyu also had a ready solution.

"Seriously, hyung," said Jeongwoo now, "I'll be fine here."

_Ok. He's probably too shy to say it._

"Jeongwoo," said Junkyu, and he thought of a kind way to put it so as to not offend the boy or make him feel uncomfortable, "the thing is, um, this. . . trip of mine is, uh, sponsored by my publisher, and it's—well, all free."

Another lie. But Junkyu certainly couldn't just say that he'd pay for Jeongwoo's expenses—however good he might think that sound—and guilt the boy into coming. Or refusing.

"Okay," said Jeongwoo, grinning.

Junkyu's eyes widened, then his smile broadened. "I'll talk to Mr. Lee later," he said, "you go pack what you need."

"No, I'll do that, hyung, don't worry about it," said Jeongwoo. 

"Are you sure?"

Jeongwoo nodded. “What time should. . . we leave?”

"Okay," said Junkyu, smiling, "thanks, Jeongwoo. Oh, let’s leave at. . . three? That okay?"

Once again, Jeongwoo replied with a nod, then he said, "Can I ask you something, hyung?"

Junkyu smiled. He knew that whatever the question was had nothing to do with Haeundae now, but about his book. "Shoot," he said.

"Um, there's—" Jeongwoo began, casting a glance at the book, as if looking for something, then he looked up again, "—well, I'm halfway through the Epilogue. And there's. . . Did David get something for Jun? I mean he said here, before heading to meet Jun in the cafe—"

"Oh, that," said Junkyu, grinning, "well, keep on reading."

A smile spread on Jeongwoo's face. "Okay," he said, then returned to reading. 

Just then, Junkyu’s phone buzzed. He got a message from Jaehyuk, telling him they had just arrived at Seoul Station. Smiling, Junkyu typed in his reply, wishing them a safe trip. Then, setting down his phone, he looked up at Jeongwoo.

For the past week, Junkyu and Jeongwoo's dinner conversations revolved around the book, especially around the characters, because Jeongwoo kept bombarding him with questions about them—especially about _David_. 

There was one particular question he asked after finishing it that Junkyu didn’t expect would come from someone as young as Jeongwoo. And it was this: 

“Why did David give Jun another chance? You know, after that. . . _thing_ that happened in the gazebo. I really thought he was ready to move on. I mean he seemed like it.”

It had taken Junkyu by surprise that he could only laugh as he searched for an answer. He did have one, but he was just overwhelmed by the fact that it was a sixteen-year-old that would raise the question. 

Looking distantly, but with a smile on his face, Junkyu had answered: “He was never ready at all, Jeongwoo. It was a lie he told himself—a lie he needed to believe to protect himself while. . . while he waited for Jun to make the move. Because somewhere deep down David, he knew Jun would. And he did. And then David would give in. And he did. Again.”

Junkyu had thought that was the last. And it wasn’t. Just yesterday, for example, after Jeongwoo finished it(except for the epilogue), he seemed to have followed up on that question as he asked:

“But hyung, David did end up. . . moving on. Why. . . the change of heart?”

Junkyu had wanted to crack a joke then, or tell Jeongwoo that it was simply because David was needed by his family, by his father. But he hadn’t wanted to treat Jeongwoo like a dumb kid. 

“Because deep down he knew he loved Jun more than he was sure Jun loved him back,” Junkyu had said, “and that scared him because. . . also because. . . he knew he loved Jun more than he loved himself.”

Yoon Jaehyuk had always loved an audience. And though he didn't quite fully admit it to himself(yet), he very much liked the attention—the head-turns he'd get every time he walked into a room. But he loved people as well. He loved exchanging conversations with them, being nice to them—and the gratifying response he'd get in return. There was no greater feeling than knowing you had somehow proven to those people that chivalry and kindness aren’t dead.

“You see, Jeongwoo,” Jaehyuk heard Junkyu say behind him as they entered a coffee shop, “ if you want to live a life in obscurity, don’t make friends with people like Jaehyukie.”

Jaehyuk paused to turn, smiling at Junkyu, who was grinning. “What are you saying?”

“Just go on,” said Junkyu, almost pushing him, “we’re already getting stares as it is.”

Jaehyuk moved on, spotting an unoccupied table by the wall at the far end of the cafe. “There,” he pointed and led the way.

Once seated, Jaehyuk looked at Junkyu, long enough for the latter to pick up what he was trying to do. The boy Jeongwoo was just sitting down when Junkyu finally caught Jaehyuk's gaze.

Junkyu narrowed his eyes at him.

Jaehyuk swallowed. "I've got something to tell you," he said.

"Well, it can wait," said Junkyu, laughing, standing up, "we're starving. I'll take the orders."

Before Jaehyuk could stop and volunteer to do it himself, Junkyu had already walked away. He faced the boy instead.

"You guys haven't eaten anything?" Jaehyuk asked him.

Jeongwoo smiled shyly. "I have, a little," he said, "Mr. Kim hasn't. He'd suggested to reserve it exactly for this afternoon."

"You call him that?" Jaehyuk laughed.

Jeongwoo grinned, unconsciously scratching the back of his head. "Not when I'm talking to him."

"Well," said Jaehyuk, "make sure not to call me _Mr. Yoon_."

Jeongwoo smiled but looked down. Not long after, Junkyu returned to the table. 

“I haven’t had cake for a month,” said Junkyu, sitting down, “I asked the guy to serve ‘em with the coffee.”

“I don’t drink coffee, hyung,” said Jeongwoo.

“Oh, so does Jaehyukie,” said Junkyu, “I got you both a Frappuccino.”

“I drink coffee now,” said Jaehyuk.

Junkyu did his signatory fake gasp. “I don’t even know you anymore,” he said, and before Jaehyuk could speak, he continued, “When’s Asahi coming?”

_Finally._

“We won’t be seeing him until after dinner,” said Jaehyuk. 

“Wha—the meeting’s that long?” said Junkyu.

“It’s. . . It’s not just a _meeting_ ,” Jaehyuk clarified, “He’s preparing. Like—a blocking or something.”

“Oh, yeah, you didn’t tell me what the _job_ was,” said Junkyu earnestly.

“He’s working for Park Jihoon,” blurted Jaehyuk, just so he could get it done and over with. And when he saw the surprised look on Junkyu’s face, he broke eye-contact, going on to say, “I mean not really. But you know, there’s this, um, kid who’s. . . making a music video or something, and Sahi’s in it. _Will be_ in it.”

“Is it So Junghwan?” asked the boy Jeongwoo, and Jaehyuk looked, pleasantly surprised.

“Yeah, that’s him,” said Jaehyuk, “are you. . . a fan?”

Jeongwoo snorted, then as though realizing something, he cleared his face. “Well,” he said, “I do support him. I’m. . . We were classmates.”

It was Junkyu who spoke this time. “Really?” he said.

Jeongwoo nodded. 

“Which school do you go to now, Jeongwoo?” asked Jaehyuk.

“He home-schools,” said Junkyu.

“You do?” Jaehyuk asked Jeongwoo, who nodded.

“He used to study abroad,” added Junkyu, “and he finished my book.”

It was Jaehyuk’s turn to be surprised. Junkyu’s book was published in America and had no translated version. Even Jaehyuk hadn’t read it, though he knew the gist of the story. 

“Anyway,” said Junkyu, “this So Junghwan. . . didn’t he just debut, like, last week?”

Jaehyuk blinked, then, remembering their original subject, said, “Yeah, he’s— _they’_ re hard at work, I guess,” Jaehyuk noted that Junkyu had chosen not to talk more about Asahi’s employment at Magnum, and though Jaehyuk felt a little guilty, he thought it was for best anyway.

“For what?” said Junkyu.

“Oh, it’s—this came from Asahi really,” said Jaehyuk, “so there’s this new agency that’s also debuting its first Talent.”

“A boy band?” said Junkyu.

“No,” said Jaehyuk, “a solo artist. But I know what you’re thinking. But oh well, there are too many boy groups these days, so maybe this agency’s decided to take risks one artist at a time? I mean the chances—”

“Park Jihoon did that,” said Junkyu, “and has done it successfully. People are comfortable with solos now, I think.”

“Maybe, you’re right,” said Jaehyuk, pretending to not notice the slight emphasis Junkyu had(probably unconsciously)put on Park Jihoon’s name when he said it. “But the thing is,” Jaehyuk went on, “this said artist won’t be going solo?” He narrowed his eyes, thinking, “It’s hard to explain, it’s—”

Jaehyuk was cut by a guy appearing and serving their orders. Only when he’d walk away did he continue, “It’s a collaboration. The artist is a rapper. And the singing part, or however you call that, will be sung by,” he leaned forward to whisper the name, “Ah Yu.”

Junkyu, who was sipping his coffee, widened his eyes. “Ah Yu, Ah Yu? The singer-actress Ah-Yu?”

Jaehyuk smiled, nodding. 

“Wow,” said Junkyu, “that’s. . . expensive.”

Jaehyuk laughed, and so did Jeongwoo.

“No, I mean,” said Junkyu, “for a starting agency. . . that’s. . . bold.”

“Well, maybe not that expensive,” said Jaehyuk, “Asahi says the CEO is an old friend of Ah Yu.”

“Shut up,” said Junkyu, laughing, “seriously? That’s just. . .” 

“I know,” said Jaehyuk.

“What’s this agency called?” asked Junkyu, slicing a portion of his cake now, “And who’s the CEO?”

“TREASURE BOX,” said Jaehyuk, starting to slice his own, “I forgot the CEO’s name.”

“I’ve read about it,” said Jeongwoo. Jaehyuk stopped what he was doing to look at the boy.

“Have you, really?” he asked him. 

Jeongwoo nodded. “Choi Hyunsuk,” he said.

Jaehyuk nodded. “Yeah,” he said, continuing on his cake, “I think that’s him,” failing to notice that at the mention of the TREASURE BOX CEO’s name, Junkyu had momentarily stopped chewing.

Although they were still heading out for a walk along the beach, Junkyu had already taken a bath. This was done purely out of his need to wake himself up because he’d stayed up until four in the morning, writing, and had only two three hours of sleep. Now because of his non stop rubbing of his eyes, they had turned to look a little bloodshot.

But it was nine in the evening and the night never betrayed, so after ruffling his hair one last time in front of the mirror, Junkyu stepped out of the bathroom and announced he was ready to leave. He, Jaehyuk and Jeongwoo left the hotel and started their stroll. All three of them had already had a (proper) dinner at a nearby restaurant just an hour ago.

“How’s Asahi’s dinner going?” said Junkyu as they began their walk. The beach bustled with activity, and all establishments were lit and running, and there was too much music in the air that all that was left to hear was the predominant booming sound. 

“It’s done,” said Jaehyuk, looking down at his phone as he walked, “he’ll call any minute by now.”

And as if on cue, Junkyu saw, from a distant, Asahi’s familiar figure, walking towards them. And he wasn’t alone. Junkyu almost stopped dead in his tracks. He swallowed instead, nudged Jaehyuk with his elbow and said, “There he is.”

Jaehyuk looked up from his phone, then upon seeing Asahi, waved his hand. Junkyu saw Asahi wave back. And though Junkyu was trying not to look at his companies, he couldn’t resist meeting Jihoon’s eyes. And before he could break eye contact, Jihoon had already smiled at him.

Junkyu looked away, or rather, he looked at Asahi's other company instead. He was wearing a hoodie with the hood of his jacket pulled over his head. Junkyu realized that it was So Junghwan, who, though he was as tall as the two other men, was just the picture of youth. Junkyu then glanced at Jeongwoo, saying, “Do you think he remembers you, Jeongwoo?”

Jeongwoo smiled at him, shrugging.

When finally they had all caught up, it was Asahi, whom Jaehyuk hadn’t obviously told about the encounter in Junkyu’s condo, who initiated the introductions. 

“Jeongwoo?” said So Junghwan reluctantly, one hand tucked in his shorts’ pocket, and the other slightly raised to point at Jeongwoo. He had an unsure smile on his face.

Junkyu looked at Jeongwoo, who was now grinning. Jeongwoo then took Junghwan’s stretched hand then pulled him in a quick hug and a pat on the back. Once they had broken away, Jihoon asked, with a smile, “You guys know each other?”

It was Junghwan, who was now smiling big, who nodded and briefly explained to his _boss_ that Jeongwoo was a childhood friend. 

“That’s amazing,” said Jihoon, who looked at Junkyu as he said this.

Junkyu looked away—looked at Asahi, expecting him to say something. But it was Jihoon who spoke again:

“Why don’t we all have some Ice cream?”

_Shit._

And so five minutes later, Junkyu found himself sitting next to Jihoon and across the rest of the group at a table inside an Ice cream parlor they had found along the street. Gone now was Junkyu’s chance at savoring the feeling of the soft sand of the beach between his toes. 

Thankfully, though, Jihoon seemed to have decided to show him a little mercy. He kept his attention toward Asahi and Jaehyuk, particularly with Jaehyuk now, who he was trying to sway to be open in taking part in his Talents’ future projects. Jeongwoo and Junghwan, on the other hand, both of whom were seated by the wall, had launched into a quiet talk, catching up.

Junkyu pretended to be enjoying his Ice cream. Perhaps too much.

“Would you like another cup, Mr. Kim?” Jihoon asked him.

“Oh, no, I’m good,” said Junkyu, “thank you.”

“How about you, boys?” Jihoon asked Junghwan and Jeongwoo, who politely shook their heads. “Well, I’m not gonna ask you two,” he told Asahi and Jaehyuk with a smile, “Mr. Yoon’s barely touched his.”

For the next ten minutes, Junkyu tried to finish his Ice cream while simultaneously listening to two parties at the table. He’d just learned, for example, that the Rapper Yoshi was appearing in So Junghwan’s summer music video. And that _the team_ was expecting him for the first rehearsal tomorrow. 

At nine forty, they were all ready to head back to their hotel rooms. All of them except So Junghwan who Jihoon had had already picked up by a staff, Junkyu had presumed, in the middle of the chats. The young artist had left the parlor, expressing his hopes to see Jeongwoo around. 

Now, it was Junkyu who got to his feet first and walked to the same door they had all come. Just before opening the door, he cast a glance behind him to check on Jeongwoo, who was now at the end of the line beside Jaehyuk, the two of them talking, like Jihoon and Asahi.

Junkyu pushed the door open, held it until Jihoon did so himself, then let go and finally walked out into the street. Inhaling the breeze, he thought he could taste salt water just from the air. 

“Mr. Kim,” Junkyu heard someone say behind him. And so distracted was he that before he realized it was Jihoon’s voice, he had already turned, looking eagerly.

“Why don’t we catch up a little,” said Jihoon. Junkyu blinked, not knowing how to react. Then he caught Jeongwoo’s face.

“I have. . . a responsibility,” said Junkyu, and he didn’t know why but he chuckled.

“It’s okay,” said Jaehyuk, “we’ll take care of Jeongwoo.”

_Damn it, Yoon Jaehyuk._

Junkyu looked at Jeongwoo, who smiled at him, encouragingly. 

“You know Mr. Kim, Mr. Park?” said Asahi.

Junkyu watched as Jihoon smiled at Asahi, saying, “College.”

Then Asahi looked at Junkyu as if to say: _Whut_?

Junkyu faced Jihoon this time. In his head, his reply went: _My head is killing me. I really need to rest_. But he was caught off guard at Jihoon’s smile, the same, genuine smile. . . from College.

“Sure,” Junkyu found himself saying.

As Jaehyuk, Asahi and Jeongwoo was just leaving, Junkyu put his hand on Jeongwoo’s shoulder and said, “You sure you’ll be okay?” to which Jeongwoo replied with a smile, but only because Jaehyuk had already grabbed him and locked his arm around Jeongwoo’s shoulder, saying, “I’ve got him. You enjoy yourself.”

As soon as they were gone, Junkyu and Jihoon started their walk. Junkyu kept his head down, and Jihoon wasn’t talking. 

“Where are you taking us?” blurted Junkyu, looking at Jihoon’s face. . . giving in to the temptation. And Jihoon looked back at him, meeting his eyes. Junkyu looked away.

“You look tired,” said Jihoon, “I was going to ask you for a drink.”

“No, I don’t think I can handle it,” said Junkyu.

“You never could,” chuckled Jihoon.

Junkyu’s body betrayed him. He chuckled.

“Well, you knew that already,” he said, “why are we wasting time?”

Junkyu only realized how rude he sounded as soon as the words were out. 

Jihoon was quiet for a while. Then, “You didn’t tell me you were coming to Busan.”

Junkyu thought for a moment, but then he answered only with a hum.

“Hate me that much?” said Jihoon, chuckling.

“It’s got nothing to do with you,” said Junkyu immediately.

Jihoon shrugged.

“To be honest, Jih—Mr. Park,” said Junkyu, “my head is pounding like crazy and I h—oomp!”

Eyes wide, Junkyu tried to process what had just happened. His body was now pressed against Jihoon’s, his chin on Jihoon’s shoulder, and there it was again, his cologne. . . 

“You still like to whine,” said Jihoon, locking his hands behind Junkyu.

Junkyu’s eyelids felt heavier now, and he could have easily fallen asleep right there, trapped in Jihoon’s embrace. When Junkyu caught a glimpse of a passerby staring at them, he pushed free, blushing.

“I, uh,” Junkyu began, “—maybe we could, um, catch up some other time. I really need—”

“Come to my place,” said Jihoon. 

“What?”

But Jihoon looked away, and for a millisecond, Junkyu thought he saw an uneasy smile crept across his lips, probably realizing how silly he sounded. 

“You know what,” said Junkyu, “I was planning to take a stroll along the beach. . .”

Jihoon waited, but so did Junkyu—for Jihoon to realize the offer.

“Let’s take a walk then,” he heard Jihoon say finally.

“Aren’t you busy?” said Junkyu, turning already the way they had come.

Jihoon didn’t answer that, trailing after Junkyu now. He said instead, “You’ve got a place in Yeongdo?”

Junkyu nodded. “Rented one,” he said, “I mean, kind of.”

“Who was that boy?”

“Jeongwoo? He’s a—relative—family—of the owner of the place I stay in.”

A long silence, until at last, they reached the beach. They walked, side by side.

“Why are you here?” said Jihoon, “In Busan?”

Junkyu licked his lips. “Vacation?” he said, “I guess.”

As much as possible, he didn’t want to talk about how writing to Jihoon. 

“Yeah?” said Jihoon, “Was New York too much?”

Junkyu smiled a little. “No,” he said, “not really.”

“I missed you.”

A chill ran up the back of Junkyu’s neck. This had always been his problem with hanging around Jihoon. He could always say something personal without feeling embarrassed. But this wasn’t always the same case with the person on the receiving end. 

Junkyu chuckled, or at least he tried. Suddenly, his feet were starting to feel sore. Just glad to be saying anything other than a response to Jihoon’s words, he said, “Let’s sit over there.”

They sat on the sand by the shore, Junkyu first, then slowly Jihoon squatted beside him. Junkyu smiled at him, but quickly, just to say, “Come on.”

Jihoon sat down.

Junkyu didn’t know what made him say it, maybe the exhaustion or the sea breeze, but hugging his knees, he said, “I never got to say it, but. . . congratulations.”

He wasn’t looking at Jihoon, so he didn’t see his face when he chuckled and said, “On what?”

“On everything,” said Junkyu, “Your agency. . . your—success.”

Quiet. And it stretched for longer than Junkyu had expected that he couldn’t help but turn to see Jihoon’s face. He, like Junkyu, had hugged his knees—but a little loosely. He was staring straight ahead at the dark water. Then suddenly his head turned to look at Junkyu, smiling—sadly.

“You could have been part of it all,” he said.

Quickly, Junkyu looked away, resisting to swallow, or do anything that might show even the slightest movement that would give him away.

“Sorry,” he heard Jihoon say, and Junkyu thought he misheard it.

Another stretch of silence. Then, just as Junkyu thought of something to break it, Jihoon said, “Are you seeing someone?”

Junkyu blinked at him, then looked away again, because he couldn’t look at Jihoon’s face longer without feeling a tickle in his belly. “No,” he said.

“Why is that?”

Junkyu shrugged, smiling a little. He propped his chin on his knees, his eyes droopy again. 

Then he felt Jihoon’s hand on his head, ruffling his hair. Junkyu let him, but only because he thought that was just that. But Jihoon let his hand stay there. Then slowly, he lowered it, just at the back of Junkyu’s head, and started brushing his fingers through thick strands of Junkyu’s hair there. 

The wisest thing Junkyu should be doing was refuse the gesture kindly, with a laugh maybe. But instead, he let it—savored it. Why not? Whatever happened between him and Jihoon had always just been between them two. Well—except that one time.

_It’s in the past now._

Junkyu’s eyes closed. Then he opened them again when he heard Jihoon chuckle.

“Oh, sorry,” said Jihoon, “you seem really tired.”

Junkyu smiled despite himself. “I’m sleepless,” he said.

Jihoon let his hand fall now and put his arm around Junkyu’s shoulder, pulling him close to him. Normally, Junkyu would have not let it, too conscious about people seeing them. But Jihoon’s cologne did the magic. Junkyu thought back to what Jeongwoo had asked him this morning—about what had David gotten for Jun.

Just before they left Yeongdo this afternoon, Jeongwoo had answered his own question, having finished the epilogue already. He had asked Junkyu why Jun’s cologne seemed the prime association of Jun’s character in the story.

Junkyu hadn’t really given a clear answer. And Junkyu could only wish he could tell Jeongwoo right now that the answer. . . was here. With him.

“I heard about this new agency. . .” said Junkyu, his head leaning against Jihoon’s shoulder, “. . . with Choi Hyunsuk. . .”

“You have?” said Jihoon, though he didn’t sound as eager as the question itself.

Junkyu hummed in response. Then he felt Jihoon’s body shake lightly, then he heard a chuckle.

“Coming full circle, huh,” said Jihoon.

Junkyu’s eyes were half-lidded, but when Jihoon said that, his mind was suddenly flooded with memories from many years ago, but oddly enough, they were all good. Or maybe he was just feeling guilty that he had consciously picked the good ones.

And maybe he did feel guilty. Because in a heartbeat, he leaned forward to kiss Jihoon, who, after a short, surprised pause, reciprocated, pressing harder. Only when Junkyu began to feel self-conscious again about the passersby did he break away, looking down, brushing his hair with his fingers.

“Come stay at my place,” he heard Jihoon say after what seemed to be the longest minute.

Junkyu looked at him, his neck hot. He opened his mouth to say something, and Jihoon seemed to have read it. 

“I stay in a separate hotel,” said Jihoon, “you don’t need to—”

“Okay,” said Junkyu, getting to his feet now. He couldn’t see Jihoon’s face because he avoided looking at it. But when he felt Jihoon stand up beside him and clasp his fingers with him, he did look up. 

_Trouble_.

But the 'Trouble' was too handsome.

As Jihoon led the way, Junkyu glanced behind him—at the beach—one last time. Then, locking his hand with Jihoon, he tried to shake off the image of that photo Jihoon had shown him: of the two of them at the beach, but particularly at the memory of that very day that photo was taken. 

It was just so clear in Junkyu’s head now: him, Jihoon, and the guy who took the picture, barking at Jihoon to hug Junkyu from behind—and how Jihoon had whispered to him at that moment, apologetic, saying, _“Don’t get mad at me, okay? This is Hyunsuk’s idea!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter was like knitting.
> 
> And I don’t knit.
> 
> Now I love it.


	4. A Picture within a Picture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou for ur patience! It shall be rewarded!
> 
> With more pain (:
> 
> A piece of advice: Take your time reading this. There are puzzle pieces everywhere. Collect all ;)

**_Seoul_ **

Choi Hyunsuk was grinning as he walked out of his office. Elated at what he had just learned, he walked toward the elevator in quick strides, almost jogging. Reaching the elevator doors and finding the lift currently occupied, he waited, tapping one foot in anticipation.

But Hyunsuk never liked to wait. And he didn't want Doyoung to arrive at the place before he did.

So he took the stairs. 

When he reached the landing, he paused—hand on the railing—to check his phone. He'd gotten a message from Doyoung:

_OMW hyung. I have the CD :) But promise me you won't tell on me! :(_

Grinning, Hyunsuk typed in his reply:

_Cross my heart!_

As soon as Hyunsuk walked out into the street, the night breeze enveloping him, he hailed a cab. It was occupied. But too excited now, he smiled and tried to hail another. Still occupied.

He chuckled to himself. “Oh, come on.”

As he waited for another, he heard his phone chime, and knowing already that it was another text message from Doyoung, he checked then smiled bigger because he was right.

_I’ve also found the picture :)_

Hyunsuk’s eyes widened. He huffed in disbelief, then he started typing in his one-worded reply:

_Seriously?!_

In just a few seconds he got his: 

_I feel like I'm as good as dead bc of this, hyung!_

Hyunsuk laughed. _I got your back!_ he replied.

 _And the expenses, right?_ came Doyoung’s reply.

Hyunsuk: _Of course! See you in a bit :)_

And just as Hyunsuk was looking up the street, another cab appeared and he didn’t have to call, for it pulled right in front of him. Grinning, he hopped on.

In less than ten minutes, Hyunsuk got to the joint where he and Doyoung had planned to meet. Doyoung wasn’t there yet, which was good. Hyunsuk took the spot right at the counter and ordered two spare ribs, feeling to have accurately calculated that it’d be ready by the time Doyoung arrived.

As it did. The man was just setting down Hyunsuk’s order when the door of the joint opened and revealed Doyoung with a big smile on his face. He gave Hyunsuk a quick hug. But Hyunsuk didn’t let go of him. He hugged Doyoung tighter and ruffled his hair. Only when he was satisfied did he let go.

“Did I make you wait?” said Doyoung.

Hyunsuk grinned at him. “No,” he said, though the reply in his head was longer than that.

“This feels nice,” said Doyoung, climbing to sit on the tall stool.

“What is?” said Hyunsuk, “missed me that much?”

Doyoung chuckled kindly. “Of course, hyung,” he said, “but also, it feels. . . great to hang out with someone who’s about to get big. Makes me feel proud I know you.”

Hyunsuk actually laughed. “Oh, and that’s coming from _the actor_ himself,” he said. He had already started on his food.

“It was just a minor role, hyung,” said Doyoung.

“No role is ever minor, Dobby,” said Hyunsuk, “it’s up to you how you carry it all out. But I think you already know that. You were really good with that scene by the lake, Doyoungie!” this time Hyunsuk’s voice had raised in excitement, as if it was only sinking in that he loved Doyoung’s acting in the drama he’d been casted. “I watched episode two the other day and—oh man, I’m really proud of you, Doyoungie.”

“Thanks, hyung,” chuckled Doyoung, “that really means a lot, coming from you.”

“Awww,” crooned Hyunsuk, “I love you, too, Dobby.”

“Only because I got you something,” said Doyoung.

Hyunsuk, who was chewing, held back a laugh and made a face at Doyoung. “That’s not true!” he said when he’d swallowed it all.

Doyoung only smiled, taking a bite now of his food. As he chewed, he procured something from a pouch Hyunsuk didn’t realize until now he carried. From it, Doyoung pulled out a case of CD. He handed it to Hyunsuk.

“Oh, and I put the picture inside, hyung,” said Doyoung, “wrapped it with some—little plastic.”

Hyunsuk took the thin, squarish case. Smiling, he opened it. He smiled at the familiar cover of the CD. Then there it was, slightly sticking on the inner cover of the case, the photo he had taken many years ago. 

A picture of Junkyu and Jihoon on a beach in Gwangalli, Busan. The smile on Hyunsuk’s face broadened.

“You look really happy,” he heard Doyoung say.

Hyunsuk grinned at him and briefly put his arm around Doyoung’s shoulder then patted him on the back. “Good ol’ days, Dobby,” he said, looking at the picture, “really good days,'' He looked at Doyoung, “thank you very much, Doyoungie.”

“You're welcome, hyung,” said Doyoung, smiling, “but please know that I’m depending on your immunity, because Junkyu-hyung is definitely going to kill me once he finds out it was me wh—”

“He won’t kill nobody, and definitely not you!” said Hyunsuk, laughing, “You’re his favorite brother!”

Doyoung gave him a look. 

Hyunsuk laughed some more. “Right,” he said, “you’re his only brother,” Hyunsuk took a sip of his iced tea. “So he also didn’t tell you guys that he was coming home?”

Doyoung smiled, “No,” he said, “we were surprised. And a little panicky. I mean at least Grandfather was. He had a big dinner prepared in just a few hours. All of which was unnecessary, actually, because Junkyu-hyung barely ate.”

Hyunsuk laughed. But it was more directed to the fact that the Kim brothers addressed their grandfather as ‘Grandfather’, like they were some part of a royal family—which, fairly enough, they were. Somehow. 

Back in college, Hyunsuk and Jihoon used to tease Junkyu about it, sometimes addressing him as ‘Prince’. Or as Jihoon preferred it, ‘Princess’.

“I think it’s more about the idea of having an _unnecessary_ dinner,” said Hyunsuk, “than the food.”

“I know,” said Doyoung, “he hates everything that’s done lavishly.”

Hyunsuk smiled but didn’t say anything because he was eating. He was learning more about Junkyu now, and it made him realize that a lot had changed. He had always clung to the idea of the Junkyu he knew from college, and hearing all these changes from Doyoung was somewhat a surprise to him. But a pleasant one.

Suddenly, as if only realizing now that there was music in the background, Hyunsuk began to pay attention to the song on play. 

“Oh,” said Doyoung, “it’s Yoshi-hyung.”

Hyunsuk nodded, smiling. Then when his mouth was empty, he said, “You guys still in touch?”

Doyoung nodded. “Kinda,” he said, “but he’s a busy person, right. I don’t know with Junkyu-hyung, though. And me, well, I have my own life, too.”

“Speaking of that,” said Hyunsuk, “is your taping done? I mean, have you—”

“Mine is,” said Doyoung, “all my parts have been shot. Wrapped up, I think, like three weeks ago? Yeah, so I’m free.”

“But isn’t the series ongoing?”

“I told you it’s no big role,” said Doyoung, chuckling, “you’ll stop seeing me in the sixth to seventh episode.”

“Really?”

Doyoung smiled at him, nodding. 

“Will there be another season?”

“Can’t tell you.”

“So there is,” said Hyunsuk.

Doyoung just ate. 

“Will you still be in the next season?” asked Hyunsuk.

Doyoung looked at him, then made a gesture of zipping his mouth.

Hyunsuk laughed. “Whatever, Dobby,” he said, “but your manager does know I’m borrowing you, right?”

“Yeah,” said Doyoung.

“That’s good,” said Hyunsuk, finishing his food now and also leaving Doyoung alone.

As Hyunsuk ate, he fixed his eyes on the picture. 

“What’s so special about that?” he heard Doyoung say all of a sudden.

Hyunsuk blinked at him. “This picture?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” Hyunsuk smiled here, looking back at the picture again, “it was a fun day, Memorable. And a disaster.”

“Care to share?”

Hyunsuk thought for a moment. He turned to Doyoung. “You and Jihoon were close, too, right?”

He watched Doyoung think while chewing. “Kind of,” he said, “I mean I always knew that the only reason he liked to come with me to the arcade was so he could have an excuse to see Junkyu-hyung.”

Hyunsuk laughed. “Right,” he said, “and he’d also get you home, for one final peak.”

“True,” said Doyoung, “poor Jihoon-hyung, though, Junkyu-hyung had always locked himself in the room. And was always somehow asleep when Jihoon-hyung came.”

“Oh, god,” said Hyunsuk, his laughs turning like a little screech now, “classic Junkyu.”

“No, it was mean, hyung,” said Doyoung, “I always felt bad for Jihoon-hyung.”

“Oh, don’t be,” chuckled Hyunsuk, “they’re both terrible people.”

Doyoung looked at him.

“I’m joking,” said Hyunsuk.

“Right,” said Doyoung, smiling, “but I always wondered why Junkyu-hyung was so mean to Jihoon-hyung.”

Hyunsuk grinned. He was amused. Not only at the memories that were currently flooding his head, but also at the odd truth that Doyoung didn’t have any idea of what had gone on in his brother’s life. But Hyunsuk couldn’t blame the kid. He had been young. 

And besides, they knew Junkyu had always preferred it that way—never liked bothering anyone to carry his burdens for him; never liked to share because he didn’t want to appear vulnerable, all while appearing very much so. He’d always detached himself from everyone, even from his own family. Hyunsuk used to joke about it—about Junkyu being his family’s blacksheep.

But when Junkyu had actually walked away from his family and lived the life he wanted abroad, Hyunsuk had felt nothing but sympathy and respect for Junkyu. Hyunsuk had realized then that though he’d meant it as a joke, he’d always known that Junkyu was different from where he came from. He just wasn’t very certain then that Junkyu would actually have the guts to prove that and run away from it all. But that he did.

“Hyung?”

Hyunsuk blinked at Doyoung. “Hmm?”

“I asked you,” said Doyoung, “what really went on with Junkyu-hyung and Jihoon-hyung.”

Hyunsuk let out a chuckle. “Oh, a lot,” he said.

“Well, pick one,” said Doyoung, laughing, “I mean why did Junkyu-hyung hate Jihoon-hyung so much?”

Hyunsuk thought for a moment. He was smiling. He wanted to clarify that Junkyu didn’t hate Jihoon, that there was another term for it. But Hyunsuk himself couldn’t think of any. “Well, for one,” he said instead, “Jihoon confessed to Junkyu. In public.”

Doyoung frowned. “Confess?”

Hyunsuk grinned. He nodded his head. “He was madly in-crush with your brother.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Doyoung, “I knew that. But then?”

“Well, it made Junkyu furious,” laughed Hyunsuk.

Doyoung’s frown deepened. “Why?” he said, “I always knew Junkyu-hyung liked the attention and was just playing hard to ge—”

“Well, that’s true, too,” said Hyunsuk, “but. . .” he looked Doyoung in the eyes, then looking away, he continued, “Junkyu wasn’t ready yet.”

He heard Doyoung laugh. “You guys were—in college? What wasn’t he ready about? It’s no—”

“He wasn’t ready to come out,” blurted Hyunsuk, “because he wasn’t ready for. . . for your grandfather’s reaction.”

Hyunsuk watched as realization dawned on Doyoung’s face. Hyunsuk never realized until now how much Junkyu had kept to himself. 

“Oh,” said Doyoung, slowly, “right.”

Hyunsuk clapped his hand, smiling. “Alright!” he exclaimed, “that was good food! I th—” 

“Is that all, though, hyung?” said Doyoung. 

Hyunsuk blinked at Doyoung. “What?”

“No, it’s just,” said Doyoung, “some time in the last days of my high school life, Jihoon-hyung just stopped coming to the house. And Junkyu-hyung would always just ignore me or turn to a different subject when I asked him about it.”

Hyunsuk was quiet for a moment.

“I’m sorry, hyung,” Doyoung went on, “I’m just curious. I mean Jihoon-hyung used to be this very simple guy. And then. . . well, bang! One day I just saw him in the news, looking sharp and talking smart. And I couldn’t rely on Junkyu-hyung for a life-behind-story because apparently he and Jihoon-hyung were ‘no longer in touch’.”

Hyunsuk chuckled, but more for himself than for Doyoung. Doyoung was telling it all so casually, because he, obviously, was clueless to it all, whereas Hyunsuk was too familiar with everything it made his chest constrict a little.

“Well,” chuckled Hyunsuk, “Junkyu’s always been a drama queen. Likes to hold little grudges.”

“Well that definitely was not little,” mumbled Doyoung. Hyunsuk laughed.

“Let it go,” said Hyunsuk, “for all we know, they’ve probably reconciled. Junkyu might be a grudging hermit but you only need to hit the sweet spot and he’s okay.” 

Doyoung frowned at him. Hyunsuk grinned. “You’ll see,” he said, “when we get to Busan tomorrow. But don’t tell Junkyu you’re coming, okay?”

Thinking of Busan made Hyunsuk pick up his phone now and pull up Google Maps. But in his excitement, he had tapped Google instead. Then his attention was caught by a top suggested article below the Google search bar. 

It was an article about an International School, probably some kind of an advertisement. But Hyunsuk tapped to read it because it was the same school from which his soon-to-debut Talent went to. And as he’d hoped, he saw his Talent’s face there. It was a class picture. His Talent was standing among a group of boys and a teacher. 

“Doyoung, look,” said Hyunsuk, showing his phone to Junkyu’s younger brother, “this is _him_.”

“Who?”

“My Talent,” said Hyunsuk.

“What’s his name?”

“You’ll know soon enough,” said Hyunsuk, taking away his phone now.

“Oh, come on, hyung,” said Doyoung, “my lips are shut.”

“Okay, fine,” said Hyunsuk, “Haruto. Watanabe Haruto.”

Doyoung shrugged. “Sounds like that japanese anime character.”

Hyunsuk only laughed. 

“Is that on purpose?” asked Doyoung. “A screen name or something?”

“No,” laughed Hyunsuk, “of course not.”

Hyunsuk set down the phone, not closing the article. 

But there, in the group photo, standing beside Watanabe Haruto, looking like he was trying to hold back a laugh, was Park Jeongwoo.

**_Busan_ **

Anyone Park Jeongwoo knew in his life—which wasn’t very many—could just very easily fall asleep, anywhere, everywhere and whenever they felt like doing it. He envied them. He had always been a night owl—pulling an all nighter more often than what was good. And even on a regular night, it would still take hours before he could fall asleep. 

Yet it would take only the slightest sound or physical contact before he was up again.

So when he heard the door to his and Junkyu’s hotel room open, he knew that it was Junkyu quietly slipping in.

Because Jeongwoo had been up the whole night and Junkyu hadn’t returned until now.

Now, Jeongwoo listened on. It was dark. Then it was not.

Junkyu had switched on the lamp by the window. Then Jeongwoo heard the clinking sound of the curtain hooks. Junkyu must have drawn the curtains.

Strangely, even though his back was turned against it, Jeongwoo was certain that Junkyu was standing by the window now. Or maybe he had taken a seat on the settee. 

Too curious now, Jeongwoo turned to see. And he was right.

Junkyu was sitting on the small sofa, looking out of the window. 

“Mr Ki—Junkyu-hyung,” said Jeongwoo.

Junkyu turned, looking surprised. “Jeongwoo,” he muttered, “did I wake you up?”

Jeongwoo sat up, taking the covers off. He smiled at Junkyu. “No,” he said, “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh, god,” said Junkyu, “I’m so sorry, Jeongwoo.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed now, Jeongwoo frowned at Junkyu. 

Junkyu opened his mouth then looked away, as if realizing something. And ironically, it was when Junkyu looked away did Jeongwoo notice that Junkyu’s eyes were bloodshot. 

“I forced you here,” said Junkyu, and he met Jeongwoo’s eyes this time, “and I shouldn’t have. You’re probably feeling—”

“No, hyung,” said Jeongwoo, “I’m fine. It’s—this is just how I am,” it was Jeongwoo who looked away this time, but only because he could feel Junkyu was being uncomfortable with making eye contact. “And I think I had too much sugar last night. But that ice cream was really good.”

Junkyu smiled at him. “You seem really close with So Junghwan,”

“Yeah, I guess so,” said Jeongwoo, “he used to be my little brother at school.”

“He went to International School, too?”

“No,” said Jeongwoo, “we were Elementary classmates. I thought I told you this already, hyung?”

Junkyu smiled. “Did you? I think I forgot.”

Jeongwoo smiled. “Maybe I just thought I did, too.”

Quiet. Jeongwoo was looking at his feet. Then he looked up. “I’ve seen your movies before, hyung,” he said.

This seemed to take Junkyu by surprise. And Jeongwoo flinched. He felt dumb. It was just that he was trying to think of things he could say other than ask Junkyu what had _happened_. But thankfully, Junkyu let out a chuckle.

“Really?” he said. 

“Yeah,” said Jeongwoo, “I loved ‘Boy’. And that was long before I met you. I only realized you and the kid in that movie are the same when I Googled your book. And, well, it kind of just showed the movies you were in.”

Junkyu laughed. “Gotta be honest, Jeongwoo,” he said, “I can no longer watch any movie I’ve been in without cringing.”

Jeongwoo grinned. “But don’t you have any favorite, though?”

Junkyu was thinking. And before he could speak, Jeongwoo added, “Oh, I also loved that one where you were with another boy.”

Junkyu looked at him, smiling, then he slightly tilted his head, thinking. Then he said, suddenly, “Jeongwoo, let’s take a stroll at the beach.”

Jeongwoo blinked at him. It was three in the morning. “Are you sure, hyung?”

Junkyu smiled bigger, standing up now. “Let’s go,” he said, “let’s tire ourselves out.”

Both of them grabbed their jackets then left the hotel. As they began their stroll at the beach, Junkyu told Jeongwoo stories about his early years in show business. He had been young, he said, so he had barely memories now of how his career had gone other than he was spoiled with so much treats and had a lot of different clothes and toys. 

Jeongwoo, however, could feel that this was just Junkyu’s way of trying to sound humble. Because Jeongwoo knew, too, that Junkyu was the grandson of one the most powerful men in the Entertainment Business in South Korea. His grandfather was the founder and former CEO of Wangyu Studios.

And Jeongwoo knew as well that Park Jihoon used to be an intern there before he became a force on his own. And he interned there with Junkyu. 

Google told Jeongwoo so.

And as if on cue, Junkyu had now jumped to his days working at his grandfather’s company.

“. . . and he always told us to work for what we wanted to deserve,” Junkyu was saying, “so I became an intern in my family’s company. But I didn’t know better then, Jeongwoo,” he chuckled here, “that was the worst mistake of my life.”

“And why is that, hyung?” asked Jeongwoo. 

Junkyu looked at him, and Jeongwoo thought the smile was slowly sliding off the former’s face. It was as if he had just realized that he said something he shouldn’t have said. 

Junkyu looked away. “Well. . .” he said, but he left it at that, “nevermind, Jeongwoo. It’s a really boring story.”

“Okay,” smiled Jeongwoo, “but can I ask you something, hyung?”

“Sure.”

“So you and Mr. Park,” Jeongwoo began, “you guys knew each other, right?”

Though the question surprised Junkyu, he didn’t show it. He went on walking, looking ahead. He maintained the smile on his face. As soon as Jeongwoo had asked the question, he knew that the boy must have found out about it through the internet, too.

“Yeah,” he answered, “we went to the same University and. . .” should he say it? Wouldn’t he be oversharing? “. . . we interned together at W. Studios.”

Jeongwoo nodded, looking like he was just hearing of it now. Junkyu smiled at him.

“But I think,” Junkyu went on, “you already know that.”

And there, Junkyu saw it—a smile spread on Jeongwoo’s face. 

“Sorry for being nosy, hyung,” he said.

Junkyu only chuckled. He didn’t know what to say now. He was feeling a little embarrassed. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Jeongwoo’s question had rooted from the fact that Junkyu had disappeared with Jihoon last night then came back with his eyes red. 

And wanting to shake off how that had come to be, Junkyu continued.

“There were three of us, actually,” he said, “me, Jih—Mr. Park and my roommate. Also a close friend of mine—actually the three of us were.”

Junkyu thought that maybe in his attempt to forget what had happened between him and Jihoon an hour ago, his conscious mind was trying to recall the more pleasant memories. To cover up his pain. And embarrassment. And guilt.

“Really?” he heard Jeongwoo say. “Who’s the other one?”

Junkyu was thinking of a way to say without giving away too much. Thinking of those people alone opened channels to his past he didn’t wish to revisit. “Well,” he said, “we used to call him Leader Choi,” he chuckled.

Though Hyunsuk had been Junkyu’s roommate, Hyunsuk had his own group of friends. Jihoon, too, because Jihoon had been part of the dance troop. Hyunsuk and Junkyu were only close because they were roommates. And Junkyu met Jihoon through one of the parties Hyunsuk had managed to drag Junkyu in. Junkyu had been a freshman. He was, as he had told Jeongwoo, too young to know any better.

Junkyu could still remember it well. He had thrown up after taking a few shots. And Jihoon had been there. It was he who had then helped get Junkyu to Hyunsuk’s car. Then the following week, Jihoon had started popping up out of nowhere, always trying to strike a conversation. Hyunsuk had started to notice this, because wherever and whenever it happened, Hyunsuk would also always be lurking at the same place with his friends. 

Jihoon had never left Junkyu alone since. 

Park Jihoon had been popular at school not only because of his dancing but also of his, as his fangirls at school used to call it, ‘charm’. Said charm included being funny. And Junkyu hadn’t liked that. Jihoon attracted too much attention. And Junkyu hadn’t wanted attention. He hadn’t wanted that attention directed to him. And for that to be possible, he must avoid Park Jihoon at all cost.

But Jihoon never relented. 

Then one day, Junkyu had finally reached his boiling point. 

“Just please stop this!” he had yelled at Jihoon’s face. “Stop bothering me!”

Jihoon had only laughed. “Why?” he had said. “I just wanna be friends.”

“Well, I don’t!” snapped Junkyu. “I don’t even like you. You think you’re funny but you’re not.”

Jihoon had stopped showing up in Junkyu’s face then. Though Junkyu had been relieved, he had felt bad, too. He had handled it terribly. _Rudely_. And so the next week, he’d tried to look for Jihoon. And there was only one place he could find him. The dance room at the Music Department.

It had been six in the afternoon. The sky was overcast, so it was already dark outside. The room had been lit already, and the brightness had been magnified by the mirrors. Jihoon had been sitting there, alone, his hair and body drenched with sweat.

The door was opened, but still Junkyu had knocked. 

Then he’d apologized. 

He hadn’t understood how Jihoon had easily forgiven him that afternoon. But by the end of their first year in college, he would.

Because Jihoon would confess to him.

_“I like you, Junkyu.”_

Sitting with his back against the headboard, Jihoon cast a lazy glance beside him, at the creases Junkyu’s body had left on the sheet. Jihoon placed his palm on it, feeling for the warmth. Then he held up his other hand, the one holding his phone.

He looked at the picture of him and Junkyu again at the beach.

Since he’d first learned that Junkyu was also here in Busan, he’d had a little wish somewhere deep in his subconscious of planning to redo this photo.

Because he had still been clinging to a sliver of hope that whatever they had shared on his last night at Seoul would catch fire. Again.

For crying out loud, he had even taken pains to find a way that he and Junkyu met whenever possible, if not constantly, here in Haeundae. He got one of his people to stalk his friends—Yoon Jaehyuk and Hamada Asahi. And when he’d found out that Hamada Asahi had just turned down a job, Jihoon had seen his chance and taken it, taking that as a sign that the universe approved. 

So he got his people to get Hamada Asahi to join his team.

Because Jihoon knew Junkyu would pick up the _message._

And he had. He did. So Jihoon had assumed. Again.

But now it seemed Jihoon had blown his chance at furthering the attempt.

Jihoon launched from his bed. After pacing around the room, he’d reach a decision. He pulled out a hoodie from his suitcase, put it on, then walked out of his room. He marched toward the elevator. He punched a button then stepped inside as soon as the doors parted open. 

When he'd reached the first floor, Jihoon walked out of the hotel, then began his walk to Junkyu's. But then, as soon as he'd reached the beach, he saw two familiar figures—the other one too familiar—that he stopped and narrowed his eyes.

It was Junkyu's back. And that other was probably the Junghwan's childhood friend. 

Jihoon huffed in disbelief. 

Licking his lips, he started jogging to catch up on them. Then he called Junkyu's name.

Junkyu stopped talking. He looked at Jeongwoo and said, "Did you say something?"

Jeongwoo frowned at him.

Junkyu turned. And his eyes widened.

He turned away, quickened his pace. "Come on, Jeongwoo."

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Jeongwoo turn, too. Then he followed Junkyu.

"Junkyu!"

Junkyu ignored Jihoon. He knew he would not stop. But Junkyu couldn't think clearly. He just went on, walking in big strides.

"Hyung," said Jeongwoo suddenly, "I think Mr. Park is calling you."

Junkyu stopped. He swallowed. He felt embarrassed to be acting the way he was acting in front of Jeongwoo. He looked at him, trying to smile, then looked at Jihoon who was now walking toward them.

"Hi," he smiled at Jeongwoo when he'd caught up, "Jeongwoo, right?" Then he looked at Junkyu. Junkyu looked away.

"Hyung," said Jeongwoo, and Junkyu looked, "I'll go head back now, I'll s—"

"No, Jeongwoo, wait," said Junkyu, then to Jihoon, "need anything Mr. Park? We were just heading back."

Jihoon looked at him, then at Jeongwoo. 

That's right, thought Junkyu, show some decency.

"No," he said finally.

Junkyu smiled. Or at least he tried. "Well, we'll go a—"

"Actually, hyung," said Jeongwoo, cutting him off, "I think I'd like to check that boutique," he pointed to a small cottage-looking store just beyond the boardwalk. And before Junkyu could say anything, he said, "You can go ahead, hyung. I'll see you later!"

Then he jogged away.

_Jeongwoo, you little traitor._

Junkyu heard Jihoon chuckle. Junkyu shot him a look.

"Think we've got a fan," smiled Jihoon.

"What do you need?" Junkyu spat.

The smile on Jihoon's face slowly slid off. He heaved a sigh. "Are you okay?"

"Why shouldn't I be?"

"Your eyes. . ." said Jihoon. He started to reach for Junkyu's face. Junkyu stepped back.

"Look, Junkyu," Jihoon began, "it's—"

"No," said Junkyu, "I have. . . I don't care—whatever it is."

Junkyu looked toward the boutique and thought he should follow Jeongwoo instead.

"Junkyu," said Jihoon, "you're just. . . you overreacted."

Junkyu looked at Jihoon's face. He scoffed. "I overreacted," he repeated, nodding his head like crazy. "I overreacted?"

"Sh—"

"You have a girlfriend," whispered Junkyu, incredulously, "and you let me sleep with you!"

"Tha—"

"Never mind," scoffed Junkyu, "it's my fault. because I didn't even ask." He could feel his body shake now, and his eyes began to burn again. Slowing his breaths, he walked away from Jihoon toward the long concrete bench by the borders where the beach and promenade met. He sat down, buried his face on his hands. But feeling foolish he looked up, just in time to see Jihoon stand in front of him. 

"You know what," he said, "you don't need to explain."

He could not clearly see Jihoon's face.

"I just—I feel horrible," Junkyu continued, "I. . . I didn't want to be someone who ruins other people's relationships."

"You did not," said Jihoon.

Junkyu did take time to study's Jihoon's face this time. When he met his eyes, he frowned at him. "What are you—"

"You know I would always choose you over anything, Junkyu," said Jihoon, ". . . over _anyone_."

Comprehension dawned on Junkyu's face. And he felt himself heat up. In embarrassment. And in shame. 

He stood up.

"Jihoon, do you—" Junkyu croaked, "do you hear yourself?"

Jihoon broke eye contact.

"You want me," said Junkyu, "to let you cheat on your girlfriend? With me?” 

Jihoon looked at him now, and he took his hand. "Junkyu—"

Junkyu gently snatched his hand. "Please," he said, almost pleadingly, "if this is all about getting back at me, I. . ." Junkyu stalled. He couldn't believe that he would even think of it. That he would weigh his sleeping with Jihoon as some kind of a. . . payment.

. _. . I already gave myself to you._

So he didn't say more. 

"Junkyu, you ca—"

"Let’s jus—can we. . . talk some other time," said Junkyu, though he was already thinking of ways to try and avoid Jihoon, forget they even met here—forget they. . . shared the same bed. Or maybe Junkyu could just head back to Yeongdo. Because anyway, the guilt of having brought Jeongwoo not only here but to his mess was eating at him.

Yes, he would head back to Yeongdo next thing in the morning. Jaehyuk and Asahi would understand.

“Okay,” said Jihoon. 

Not giving Jihoon any more looks, Junkyu quickly turned away. As he looked ahead, he could just make out Jeongwoo’s back at the open boutique. 

But Junkyu wasn’t really seeing, because he thought he could just feel the intensity of Jihoon’s gaze burning at his back.

Even Jihoon found it funny that as he watched Junkyu walk away, all the things he wanted to say and he could have easily just said remained squashed in his chest. But why he found that funny, he couldn’t tell you. He’d always believed some things were better left unsaid. He had always believed that. 

_Maybe not always_.

Ah, well, he just had the answer. He was never like this. He was never the quiet soul. What happened?

 _Life happened_.

Jihoon watched as Junkyu finally disappeared out of his sight. He smiled ruefully.

_Junkyu happened._

Slipping both hands into his shorts pockets, Jihoon traced his way back to his hotel.

At five-thirty in the morning, the sun was already peeking and the surface of the ocean was beginning to turn bright blue again. Jihoon stood by the window of his hotel room now, enjoying the view, cup of coffee in hand. 

He hadn’t fallen asleep again since he’d returned. His mind had since been preoccupied with today’s preparations. 

And the last night’s. . .

Jihoon thought back to when he and Junkyu arrived in his room. Junkyu had been exhausted, and so he had crashed straight onto Jihoon’s bed. Jihoon had sat next to him, put Junkyu’s head on his lap, then had started combing through strands of Junkyu’s hair.

Jihoon had said things—things he’d never managed to say to Junkyu when they were twenty-three. 

They still remained unsaid, though. In a way. Because Junkyu had been asleep then.

Junkyu woke up at quarter to three, at which point Jihoon had dozed off. But he was startled awake when Junkyu removed himself from him. Junkyu had gone to the bathroom. And while he was gone, Jihoon’s phone had chimed.

When Jihoon had picked it up, he'd found he’d had four messages. He'd wondered then if it was the sound that had woken up Junkyu. And if it had, had he read the contents that had been displayed in the notification bars?

He would get his answer as soon as Junkyu stepped out of the bathroom and headed straight to the door.

Jihoon had sprang to his feet, stopping Junkyu.

"Where are you going?"

"Let me go."

"What's wrong?"

"Just let me go. Please."

"Tell me what's wro—"

"Let me go," Junkyu had said firmly, though his eyes, Jihoon had noted, were beginning to get red, "while I'm still civil."

And so Jihoon knew then. Junkyu had seen the contents of the messaged through the traitorous notification bars, all of them a single-worded text that had been repeatedly sent by someone named ‘Euna’: 

_Babe?_

Now, as Jihoon looked back to when he had let Junkyu leave, he asked himself why had he not immediately run after him? Tell him something. Explain to him something.

Because, maybe, he had wanted it to be just like that. He had wanted to put Junkyu through that. . .

. . . He had wanted to see Junkyu in pain.

A buzz.

Jihoon blinked. 

He turned to look at the door and, setting down his cup of coffee now walked up to open it. It was his staff, handing him a piece of a folder in which Yoshi and Junghwan’s itinerary for today was detailed in a table.

“Thank you,” said Jihoon, “you could have just emailed them,” he smiled.

“We’d thought you’d want them printed out, sir,” replied his staff, politely mirroring the smile.

Jihoon did remember telling everyone to give him the most tangible information when it came to things that involved his Talents especially since his secretary had not come with him. 

Jihoon thanked his staff once more then closed the door. 

Early day today. He forgot Yoshinori was coming today. He had somehow lost track of time.

Setting down the folder on the bedside table, Jihoon picked up his cup of coffee and downed it in one go. He then picked up his phone. He saw that someone had Direct Messaged him on Instagram. He stopped when he saw who it was. With a little smile tugging at the corner of his lips, he frowned. Then he tapped to open the message.

_Let’s grab some beer tonight. Or sojus whatever!_

It was Choi Hyunsuk. 

Jihoon read it again. Hyunsuk was still online. Jihoon thought for a moment, then he replied: _Hey, stalker. I’m not in Seoul._

In a minute Hyunsuk’s reply came: _Let’s bring it there then! (Clinking Beer Mugs Emoji)_

Jihoon: _You coming here?_

Hyunsuk: _Aye! See you there, nemesis._

Jihoon scoffed. He replied: _Give me a call when you get here in one piece._

Hyunsuk: _(Face with Tears of Joy Emoji) Get Junkyu!_

Jihoon looked at it. Then he typed in: _See you when I see you, hyung._

Hyung: _Oooh! Damn right I’m your hyung! See you, Jihoonie! (Heart-Eyes & Face with Tears of Joy Emoji) _

Jihoon smiled. He threw his phone on the bed. Just when he thought things couldn’t get any more complicated. . .

Jihoon began undressing himself. Then, stepping into the bathroom, he laughed to himself, shaking his head.

Hyunsuk was sitting at a table in a restaurant. He was sorting through his emails. 

One by one he started selecting the irrelevant and read ones then once satisfied, he deleted them all. He would casually look up to check if anyone from his invited guests had now decided to show up. But it was still early—earlier than the time he had set for all of them to meet.

When he and Doyoung had arrived this noon at Haeundae, as he called for a reservation at a restaurant, he’d had it all played out in his head. He had even thought of coming later than everyone, simply to make an entrance, but then he realized that he needed to have a control of the flow of the conversation.

And his idea of achieving that was to be here before everyone else, so it was he who’d have a head start at making everybody feel uncomfortable.

Hyunsuk chuckled at himself. He covered his mouth with his hand in case the other night goers noticed him and thought of him crazy.

He had so luckily been reserved a beautiful spot. It was the back end of the restaurant, an open balcony that was surrounded with tall potted plants. There were small incandescent bulbs everywhere, illuminating the place with warm light, a contrast to the slightly cold breeze brought by the sea.

Hyunsuk’s phone lit up. It was Doyoung.

_Have they arrived yet?_

Hyunsuk replied, _‘Not yet’,_ with a Wink Emoji. 

He and Doyoung had planned for the latter to show up last, because they wanted to surprise Junkyu. Hyunsuk would text Doyoung once Junkyu had arrived. 

And speaking of whom, Hyunsuk could finally see Junkyu walking in, scanning the room. Hyunsuk, grinning, stood up and waved his hand excitedly. He smiled bigger when Junkyu caught it.

“Junkyu!” howled Hyunsuk happily as soon as Junkyu reached for a hug. Hyunsuk squeezed him, shook him, and Junkyu laughed.

"It's so nice to see you, hyung," he said.

Though he was smiling, Junkyu spoke softly, quietly. 

Hyunsuk grinned. This must have been such a surprise for Junkyu, he thought. 

"Thanks for coming, Kyu," said Hyunsuk, "Jihoon told me I'm stealing you precious time from your friends. To be honest, I kind of felt guilty, but seeing you now—I miss you, Kyu!"

Junkyu chuckled.

"If there's any way I can make it up to your friends, though?" said Hyunsuk, "I can ta—"

"No, it's fine, hyung," said Junkyu, "I'm—we're doing something later tonight."

Hyunsuk smiled at that. 

"Congrats on your agency," said Junkyu.

"Thanks. Congrats on your book," Hyunsuk winked at Junkyu.

Junkyu blushed. Hyunsuk wanted to tease him about it—ask him what inspired him to write it, but then he remembered Doyoung. And he thought this was the right time. So he called him.

"Hey," he said over the phone when Doyoung picked up, "yup. See you."

As Hyunsuk put his phone down, he was looking at Junkyu, grinning at him. Junkyu frowned at him, smiling.

"Who was that?"

Hyunsuk leaned forwards. "You'll see."

"Whatever, hyung," chuckled Junkyu, then he looked around, "this is fancy."

Hyunsuk giggled. He shrugged. "Well," he said, "I did make a conscious decision. I mean I'm meeting two of the royal family."

Junkyu scoffed. "What?"

Hyunsuk, breaking into a small laugh, began to open his mouth. But then he caught a glimpse of Doyoung walking up to their table. Hyunsuk waved up.

"Wait," he heard Junkyu say, and Hyunsuk enjoyed the look on his face, "Dooyoung?"

Hyunsuk laughed now. He then watched as Doyoung approached the table cautiously, grinning at Junkyu, like a kid who had just done something bad and had been called for a talk.

Hyunsuk's eyes had now disappeared from laughing. He was somewhat biting at his knuckles to keep it low, watching Junkyu's reaction.

Doyoung, laughing, reached the table now then stooped down to hug Junkyu from the back. Junkyu, smiling but still looking surprised, patted Doyoung's arm. "How—" 

"I came with Hyunsuk-hyung," said Doyoung before Junkyu could finish. He stepped away now and took a seat, still smiling at Junkyu.

"Hyung," said Junkyu to Hyunsuk now, "is that true?"

Hyunsuk nodded. 

Junkyu turned to Doyoung. "How about your show? I mean, don't you—"

"It's all clear," said Doyoung, "I am a free bird."

"You can tell Grandfather that," said Junkyu teasingly.

"Ha ha," said Doyoung. "He doesn't know. Mom does. She's probably told Dad, and Dad will tell _him_."

"Holy moly," said Hyunsuk, "am I in trouble?"

"Of course not, hyung," said Doyoung.

"Not yet," quipped Junkyu.

"Junkyu!" cried Hyunsuk. 

Junkyu laughed. "Well now at least we're even," he said.

"Oh, come on," said Hyunsuk, "I'm serious, am—"

"Junkyu-hyung's just messing with you, hyung," said Doyoung.

Hyunsuk looked horrifyingly at Junkyu, who let out a laugh. Then, clearing his face, "Am I though?"

He and Doyoung broke out into laughter when Hyunsuk slumped in his chair.

"The last thing I want to do," said Hyunsuk, cutting the playful act now, "is piss off Mr. Lee."

_Like Jihoon once did._

But Hyunsuk didn't say that. And he was glad he didn't, because what he'd said alone didn't elicit a smile from Junkyu. Only Doyoung chuckled.

Hyunsuk cleared his throat, then willed his face to smile, which was broadened when he saw Jihoon coming. "Oh, Jihoon's here," he said. He raised his hand. Jihoon didn't catch it.

Hyunsuk saw Doyoung turn, then he, too, raised his arm, waved it. Jihoon finally saw.

It was Doyoung who hugged Jihoon first. Jihoon looked genuinely happy to see Doyoung. 

"You're all grown up now," chuckled Jihoon, "I am very proud of you, Doyoungie."

"Thanks, hyung," said Doyoung, smiling, "I miss you!"

Jihoon hugged him again, patting him at the back then his cheeks, "I miss you more."

Hyunsuk cast a furtive glance toward Junkyu. He had a small smile on his face, but he was looking down at the table.

Inside, Hyunsuk was smiling. _Something's going on. This will be fun!_

"Junkyu," greeted Jihoon, sitting down next to him.

Junkyu nodded his head but didn't look.

Hyunsuk bit back a smile. He cleared his throat. "Jihoon, where's Yoshi?"

"Rest room," said Jihoon.

Junkyu frowned. "Yoshinori's here?" 

Hyunsuk nodded excitedly. He fished out the CD case he had brought with him and waved it to Junkyu, grinning.

"Oh my god," said Junkyu, "where did you find tha—" then he glanced at Doyoung. He understood.

Doyoung bit his lower lip, holding back a smile.

Giggling, Hyunsuk opened it. He wanted to show the cover of the CD but then seeing the photo, that was what he took out and showed to Junkyu instead, then to Jihoon.

It was Jihoon who reacted this time. He had a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, but he was frowning. "Where d'you get that?"

Hyunsuk nodded toward Doyoung.

"Oh," muttered Jihoon.

"Why?" asked Hyunsuk, passing it to him.

Jihoon took it. "I have a picture of this," he said, "I mean a picture of this _photo_." He looked at Junkyu. "I showed it to Junkyu."

"Really?" said Hyunsuk. "Where did you get it?"

"Yeah, hyung," said Doyoung, "there's only one of this, right, Junkyu-hyung?"

Junkyu looked up but didn't say anything.

Hyunsuk looked at Jihoon to see his reaction but the latter was already turning to look at him. "I got it from Yoshinori," he said, giving back the photo, "he's somehow taken a photo of it. Sent it to me. Don’t know how h—"

"Oh!" said Doyoung. "Yeah, yeah. Yoshi-hyung visited one time," he looked at his brother here, "and I showed it to him. He did take a photo of it."

"Well, that explains it," said Hyunsuk, putting back the photo inside the CD case. He'd now changed his mind. He'd saved the _rest_ later.

His mind was working on all these revelations. What a truly small, small world, he thought. Hyunsuk hid his glee.

"Hi, everyone."

Everybody at the table looked up. Hyunsuk stood first. "Yoshi!" He took Yoshinori's hand and pulled him into a quick hug. Doyoung did the same.

Yoshi walked around the table, passing Junkyu. Hyunsuk watched it all. Then, Yoshi finally took a seat next to Junkyu, facing Jihoon. Junkyu sat in the middle of them two.

A joke popped up in Hyunsuk's head. He was thinking of whether he should say it or not. The three looked uncomfortable now. Which was more the reason Hyunsuk should break the ice.

Smiling now, he nudged Doyoung beside him. "Look at this group, Dobby," he said, "us and—" he laughed here.

Doyoung snorted. "What is it hyung?"

"Well," said Hyunsuk, clearing his throat, recovering, "there's you and me and," he was trying to contain a laugh, ". . .and Junkyu and the two men he's dated. I can’t—"

Then he burst out laughing. He covered his mouth with his hand when he realized he was being loud.

But what Doyoung was about to say would put him on a high. 

"Yeah. And broke their poor hearts."

Hyunsuk's laugh echoed through the restaurant. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is the picture coming together? Need more pieces? 
> 
> Let's stir up some drama then.


	5. White Tigers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Answers. 
> 
> Hellew again, u guys! ^^
> 
> There’s a ‘movie’ in here that u will (in a way) watch. Said movie is very relevant to the plot because it ties all the answers. And something else. So have a happy viewing I guess x>
> 
> Word of advice. Pay attention, u guys! x)
> 
> No, srsly u guys take ur time. As I do when I write. I enjoyed every single bit I wrote in here and I want you to as well :)

Gazing out of the car window, Junkyu focused on working on putting a neutral look on his face, pretending to be withdrawn—if not uninterested—as he listened to Hyunsuk badger Jihoon to speak in a _satoori._ To which the latter seemed completely adamant not to do.

“Come on,” Hyunsuk insisted, cackling, “let us hear it.”

Out of the corner of his eye Junkyu then saw him throw a playful jab on Jihoon’s forearm.

Jihoon clucked his tongue. “Don’t do that,” he said, “I’m driving.”

Junkyu heard Hyunsuk let out a groan from the front seat. 

Then suddenly Yoshinori, who was sitting next to Junkyu, spoke. "Give it time, hyung," he said, "a few bottles of sojus would surely loosen up Jihoon-hyung."

Hyunsuk turned to grin at Yoshinori. "Right, right," he agreed, nodding his head, "it'll be rolling out of his tongue like—"

"Not gonna happen," said Jihoon, and though Junkyu couldn't see his face he could tell he was smiling.

Hyunsuk let out another giggle, clearly unconvinced. "When did you become so uptight, Jihoonie?"

When Jihoon ignored the older man, Hyunsuk let out one final giggle, then silence finally preceded the car. Sensing that his prolonged silence would sooner or later waiver for Hyunsuk to direct the conversation to him, Junkyu began to let his eyes droop. He leaned his head against the window.

“Junkyu, you okay?”

Junkyu removed his head from the window and turned to look at Yoshinori. He smiled at him. “Yeah,” he breathed. It came out hoarsely that he had to repeat it. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

From his seat—without turning—Hyunsuk said, “You tired, Junkyu?”

Junkyu cleared his throat before answering. “No,” he said, “just enjoying the, um. . . view.”

Junkyu saw the back of Hyunsuk’s head toward the window. “Yeah,” crooned the older man, “that’s Busan for you. Won’t take us half an hour before we get to Dadaepo.”

Jihoon snorted. Junkyu looked. He could only see the side of his face. He was smiling. 

“What?” said Hyunsuk. “You’re not the only one who knows Busan!”

Then he launched into a litany of speeches of his long-time, post-college relationship with Jihoon’s hometown.

Meanwhile Yoshinori leaned sidewards to whisper to Junkyu, “I’m touched.”

A little surprised but unable to help himself from smiling, Junkyu frowned at Yoshinori. “What?”

Yoshinori flashed his beautiful teeth—Junkyu thought he felt something funny in his belly—then he pointed towards the two other men at the front.

Finally understanding, Junkyu smiled. He left it at that, wishing Yoshinori would leave him alone. 

_God, Junkyu. What is wrong with you._

Guilted by his own conscience, Junkyu looked at Yoshinori. “I loved your song,” he said. And he said it quietly. 

Still, Jihoon and Hyunsuk stopped talking. Or at least Jihoon did. Because Hyunsuk quipped, “Yeah, did you get it from where I think you did?”

Junkyu frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

Hyunsuk only winked at him, then grinned back at Yoshinori.

“Well, if we’re thinking of the same thing,” said Yoshinori, “yes, hyung. Well. It inspired it,” pausing, Yoshinori thought, “I’ve always wanted to do _it_. I mean it had been Jihoon’s idea. But the idea was too young when he’d pitched it. Too personal for me. But yeah.”

Nodding approvingly, Hyunsuk returned to sitting back. Junkyu looked questioningly at Yoshinori, trying to make sense of what they were talking about. “What. . .”

“Oh, _White Tiger,_ ” said Yoshinori, smiling at Junkyu, “it’s actually inspired from your movie.”

Junkyu frowned. “What mov—” His face cleared. “Oh.”

“It’s my favorite one, Kyu,” muttered Hyunsuk. “That’s why I had Doyoung dig it up,” he chuckled, “I was hoping we could watch it while, you know, having some booze.”

Junkyu doubted that was entirely Hyunsuk’s intention. And Junkyu knew that Jihoon felt the same, too. But Junkyu didn’t spare a single glance at the latter. The fact that they were both inside this confined space was enough reminder of his presence.

“It’s not _my_ movie,” said Junkyu finally, looking out of the window again into the night, where he could now see a portion of the beach in Haeundae.

“Well, you’re in it,” said Hyunsuk, “and your grandfather helped produce it!”

“I _was_ ,” said Junkyu, “just the friend of the. . . protagonist.”

“But it was you who got that movie the attention it got,” said Hyunsuk. “I mean, no offense, Yoshi, I know you and that kid were friends.”

“Still are, hyung,” said Yoshinori, smiling, “so I would be careful.”

Junkyu let a smile pass his lips. Hyunsuk laughed. 

“And he’s not a kid anymore,” said Jihoon, “not the last time I checked.”

While Hyunsuk laughed, the smile on Junkyu’s face disappeared.

“Junkyu was so _big_ then,” said Hyunsuk, “so famous! How old were you, Kyu? Ten, eleven?”

“Nine,” said Junkyu noncommittally. 

“See?” said Hyunsuk. Then he raised one arm and, gesturing in the air like he was drawing something, said, “ _The White Tiger_.”

“Classic, right,” said Yoshinori.

“Aye, it is,” agreed Hyunsuk, “good move, Yoshi. And you’ve done a really good job with the lyrics, man!”

Yoshi smiled. “Thanks, hyung.”

Junkyu watched the side of Jihoon’s face peripherally, but he couldn’t quite make his reaction. Again Junkyu looked out of the window, no longer interested in delving into the intention or story behind Yoshinori’s song. He had worked it out himself before. He simply just had chosen not to dwell on it.

“What about you, Junkyu?” Yoshinori was talking again. “What do you think of it?”

Junkyu turned his face to meet Yoshinori’s eyes. He opened his mouth but found he didn't know what to say exactly. 

Sensing this, Yoshinori prompted, “I referenced the characters—”

“No, I know that,” Junkyu smiled, “I, uh. . . yeah, I think it was brilliant. It _is_ brilliant.”

Yoshinori smiled, but Junkyu could tell he knew he didn’t mean it. At least not in the way it sounded. Thankfully, though, Yoshinori didn’t probe. And a stretch of silence had once again preceded the car.

Junkyu thought about the movie—about _The White Tiger_ . That was the first time he’d met _him._ And certainly not the last.

Then Junkyu remembered Jeongwoo, telling Junkyu’s about his movie ‘Boy’ and the other one he couldn’t remember the title of. Junkyu had told him during their walk at the beach. And he’d told him that it was his favorite, too. In fact, he thought everybody he knew would always say it was their favorite movie of his, too.

Hyunsuk began mumbling a bit of the rap part from Yoshi’s song:

_‘. . ._

_I’m like a White Tiger_

_I’m a, I’m a different kind_

_Like a White Tiger_

_Rarest of the rarest, you can’t find. . .’_

“Hyung,” Junkyu said suddenly. 

“Yeah?” said Hyunsuk.

“Are you sure,” said Junkyu, “they’ll be fine?”

“Doyoung?”

“Yeah,” said Junkyu, “and Jeongwoo.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” said Hyunsuk, then quietly to himself, “it'll be nice for Haruto to see a friend, too.”

Junkyu returned to looking out of the window. He knew that he should at least try harder into putting out more words—he was a writer for god’s sake—say something random and nice, or at least try and look happier. After all he was not forced to come to this impromptu trip.

_All for a campfire._

Feeling a wave of regret sweep over him now and only realizing how things could actually go once alcohol got involved, Junkyu braced himself for a long night of what he could already see as a game of tug-of-war. Of what, he wasn’t sure yet. Or at least he’d rather not go there just yet.

But should things get a little personal(again), he could always resort to one of the things he’d learned to do best. Keep his head down.

Contrary to how his brother was currently feeling, Kim Doyoung could now be seen sitting inside Junkyu’s hotel room, engaged in a much lighthearted conversation with Jaehyuk. 

Though he had not originally planned to stay long, Doyoung was held captive by his brother’s best friend, who was now coaxing details from him about the dinner he and his brother had just had. But more specifically, what had happened next. 

“. . . and he actually went?” Jaehyuk was just asking, his eyes wide in disbelief, back of his hand over his mouth.

Doyoung grinned. “I know,” he said, nodding his head, “beats me, too. I could swear Junkyu-hyung wanted to leave that table as soon as possible. And yet when Hyunsuk-hyung suggested the whole bonfire—"

“Campire.”

“—sorry, _campfire_ thing, he said yes in a heartbeat.”

“Wow,” said Jaehyuk, leaning back in his chair, and then as though he was struck by an idea, “but I mean he is in the presence of a superstar. Probably starstruck?”

Doyoung chuckled now. “Probably,” he said.

Jaehyuk sighed dreamily. “Look at your brother,” he said, “he’s only a week here in Busan and he’s already caught three fish.”

Doyoung heard a chuckle from Park Jeongwoo who was sitting on the bed. Doyoung glanced at him, smiling.

“Oh, okay, I’ll let you two go now,” said Jaehyuk, standing up.

Doyoung got to his feet as well. The two of them hugged.

“Jeongwoo,” Jaehyuk turned to look at Jeongwoo when he and Doyoung broke away, “just text me, we’ll come get you.”

“No need for that, hyung,” Jeongwoo smiled, “I can make my way back.”

“Don’t worry, hyung,” Doyoung told Jaehyuk, “we’ll get him back. Oh, and please say hi for Asahi-hyung for me.”

Jaehyuk smiled at him, patting on the forearm. “I will,” he said, “you guys be careful.”

As Doyoung and Jeongwoo made their exit from the building of the hotel, the two acquainted themselves with each other, with Jeongwoo especially telling Doyoung how he and his brother had come to meet, the cabin-house in Yeongdo and the invite to come with his brother here in Haeundae. 

Jeongwoo had then indulged Doyoung’s curiosity on what lay on Yeongdo and Jeongwoo’s brief monosyllabic replies eventually led Doyoung to ask more about Jeongwoo himself instead, specifically on his relationship with Hyunsuk’s Talent.

“. . . yeah, but he left first,” Jeongwoo was telling him, “he, um. . . well, because I think it was around that time when he became a trainee.”

“Yeah?” said Doyoung. “And how did you guys keep in touch with each other?”

Jeongwoo did not immediately answer and Doyoung had to look. He realized he was walking too briskly, so he slowed his pace and watched as Jeongwoo who, although seemed to be thinking, picked this up.

“He got busy, I think,” Jeongwoo said finally, “I mean, training does require a lot of your time.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” said Doyoung, who had once been a trainee himself, “we—Me and Haruto—did talk a little bit about that, actually. On the train.”

“So you guys came together?”

“Yeah,” said Doyoung, nodding his head, “with _the_ boss and some others—who work for the boss,” Doyoung chuckled.

Jeongwoo was smiling, slightly nodding his head. “Mr. Choi?”

Doyoung looked at Jeongwoo. “Yeah,” he said, “know him?”

“Well—kind of,” Jeongwoo smiled embarrassedly, “your broth—Mr. Kim told me a little. . . bit. . .”

“Oh.” Doyoung pondered on that. 

He and his brother were never really close until Junkyu had graduated from college. And even then, Junkyu had always drawn a line. A line that separated him even from his family. 

If anything—and funnily enough, it had been Junkyu’s relationship from outside their family—with Jihoon, Hyunsuk and eventually Yoshinori that had somehow allowed Doyoung to get over that line and earn himself somewhat a special privilege to his brother’s world, making Doyoung somewhat the only family member to have access to Junkyu beyond just the family dinners.

Junkyu did not shut people away. He shut himself away from people.

Jihoon used to joke about it. “What is wrong with your brother?” he’d say.

It was summer after his brother’s first year in college that Doyoung got to know Jihoon more. And Hyunsuk. As Doyoung looked back to it now, he realized he’d become his brother’s stand-in, something which Doyoung used to resent Junkyu about because it had been—for Doyoung’s part—out of guilt.

He’d always felt bad for them, especially for Jihoon. That summer, after what Doyoung had thought had been stopped, Jihoon had started showing up again. But this time he’d come with Hyunsuk. 

But Junkyu would never see them. He would simply lock himself to his room and wait for the two to go away.

But they would always come back. And it was Doyoung who would see them instead, which was, again, partly out of guilt and partly because as he and Junkyu were most of the time(all the time) alone at home, and what with Junkyu never really the fun brother, Doyoung had found what Junkyu had failed to fill in the company of the two older men.

“Sorry about Junkyu-hyung,” Doyoung would always start. 

Jihoon and Hyunsuk would always understand. They would take him out to places Doyoung had never been before. As Jihoon had become more subdued, something which Doyoung never realized why was that so until Hyunsuk had told him about the ‘confession’, Doyoung had grown more fond of Hyunsuk. 

Still, he hadn’t liked what was becoming of Jihoon. And one day he had had enough of his brother’s quiet but equally horrible tantrums. Doyoung had not known what was happening then, but he’d known something was up. So Doyoung had come up with an idea. 

He had finally invited Jihoon and Hyunsuk inside the house. But he had needed a reason first. So that morning he came with the two older men to this popular clothing store. There had been this hot Letterman jacket everybody had been so crazy about, and it had gone on SALE. Hyunsuk and Jihoon had been among those eager to get one. 

Once the two of them had gotten what they had come there to get, Doyoung had invited them back to the house. They had been surprised, unsure even. But they had come anyway. And Doyoung had almost felt pleased—proud—feeling like he had done something great, something that would fix things.

But it had turned out he wasn’t the only one who’d brought guests.

“. . . is that Mr. Kim’s movie?”

Doyoung blinked. He glanced at Jeongwoo. Then he looked at the CD case in his hand.

“Oh,” he breathed, “yeah.”

“I’ve seen it,” said Jeongwoo. 

“Well, it’s great,” said Doyoung, “I mean—I’m not saying that because my brother’s in it, it’s—”

“It _is_ great,” said Jeongwoo, smiling.

Doyoung chuckled embarrassedly. “Yeah,” he said, “and he’s not even the main protagonist.”

“He’s not?” 

“No,” said Doyoung, then smiling knowingly, “hey, I know you already know that. No need to be—”

“No, I honestly don—well, I thought both of them were the. . .”

“Protagonists?”

“Yeah.”

Doyoung looked at the cover of the CD case. 

It was just one boy. And it was not his brother. You could only see his back. He was standing somewhere in the zoo. And he was looking up at a white tiger in a huge, spacious cage. 

“Well, I guess,” said Doyoung, “you can put it like that. But this is not Junkyu-hyung,” he pointed at the boy on the cover, smiling.

Jeongwoo looked. Then he smiled. “No,” he said, “it’s the _other kid._ ”

Doyoung smiled. “We’re almost there,” he said, then after a moment, “but actually, would you mind if we get pizza and. . . something to drink first, Jeongwoo?”

“Oh, totally okay.”

“Great,” said Doyoung. “Then we can watch this,” he held up the CD, “because god knows _your friend_ could use a break.”

Watanabe Haruto could easily fall asleep anywhere, everywhere and whenever he felt like doing it. It was a curse. And he felt even more strongly about that now especially because he needed to be as _awake_ as he could possibly be these days. He had a lot to work on. A lot to practice. A lot to rehearse.

As he was supposed to be doing now. 

But the lyric sheets and printed storyboards for the Music Video lay untouched and sprawled all over the coffee table and he had his head leaning onto a pile of some while his eyes drooped as he took in the night view of the beach.

_It is a curse._

Thinking that, a memory crossed Haruto’s mind. He had just remembered a friend telling him the exact opposite.

“That’s like a superpower, actually,” Park Jeongwoo once told him, “like a _gift_.”

Haruto had scoffed then. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I overthink for two hours before my brain finally decides I can sleep,” said Jeongwoo, “you, however, is like a ticking time bomb. But instead of exploding, you shut down. Like a computer. You know what maybe—”

“You should’ve just said that.”

“I know. But you’re not exactly like a computer tho.”

“No. But you are.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re so stiff. And you follow rules—”

“Makes me feel nice.”

“—like you’re a programmed robot and—”

“Okay, stop. First of all that’s offensive.”

“And?”

“And!”

Haruto smiled at the memory. 

Now he felt himself energized again.

Sitting up straight, he took a deep breath and began collecting all the sheets together, sorted them. Then he heard a buzz. He stopped. He listened. Another buzz. Finally he glanced over his shoulder and looked at the door. 

He frowned, lips pursed. 

Gingerly Haruto stood up, checked his face and hair in the small round mirror hung by the wall, then walked up to the door to peek through the peephole. 

He startled when he saw a face peeking back, which then retracted and laughed. 

It was Kim Doyoung.

Smiling now, Haruto unlocked the door and opened it.

“Oh, good, you’re still awake,” said Doyoung, smiling.

Haruto was just opening his mouth to say something when he realized Doyoung wasn’t alone. 

Haruto stared at Doyoung’s company in utter surprise.

“Oh, this is Jeongwoo,” said Doyoung, “but I heard you two already know each other.”

A beat.

“Yeah,” was Haruto’s only reply. But he was smiling all while nodding his head, looking at Jeongwoo as if lost in a reverie.

Then finally Jeongwoo stopped holding his smile. “Why,” he chuckled, “are you looking at me like that?”

Haruto let out a chuckle, too, but didn’t say anything to that. He looked at Doyoung. “What. . .”

“We came here to—well, keep you company,” said Doyoung, “can we come in?”

Haruto looked at him, then to Jeongwoo, then back again at Doyoung.

“Oh, I’ll explain,” said Doyoung, grinning now, obviously picking up on Haruto’s confusion, “if you let us in.” 

Haruto opened the door wider and let his guests step in.

“Is Ms. Ga back yet?” asked Doyoung once inside.

“Not yet,” said Haruto, “she’s still on location, I think.”

Doyoung nodded his head, then, “Did you get my text?”

Haruto glanced at the coffee table on which his phone lay dead. “I haven’t,” he said.

He was looking down now, processing how the hell was Jeongwoo here and how he and Doyoung knew each other. “Where’s Mr. Choi?” he asked once he’d closed the door.

Doyoun didn’t reply immediately. He and Jeongwo were now setting up the food and drinks they had brought onto the coffee table.

“They went to Dadaepo,” Doyoung said once his hands were free, “with some of his friends,” then as a joke he added, “So I’m the boss.”

Haruto didn’t smile but only because he was looking curiously at Jeongwoo. Doyoung must have gotten this because he let out a chuckle. Haruto blushed, looking away.

“So, um,” Doyoung began, hands on his hips, “Jeongwoo here is a—he’s friends with my brother and. . . and so is Hyunsuk-hyung—I mean he’s friends with my brother. Who is also here in Busan.”

Haruto stared at Doyoung. He took in what he had just said very slowly. Then he looked at Jeongwoo. “Why are you here?”

Haruto heard Doyoung laugh.

“He came with my brother,” Doyoung explained, “it’s kind of a long story. But we have hours—oh, right, shit—oh, I’m sorry. Haruto, are you allowed to stay up late?”

Haruto, who had been regarding Jeongwoo with skeptical eyes as Doyoung was talking, answered, “I slept the whole day.”

“Oh, good,” said Doyoung. “You’re charged. Let’s put on some movie then. Oh, yeah. You guys can have a slice or two. I’ll just go and get my laptop. Be right back.”

Only when Doyoung had left the room and Haruto was left with Jeongwoo alone did Haruto finally break into a huge smile. But he didn’t quite know what to say. 

Neither of them made a move.

“Do you. . .” Haruto finally began. He cleared his throat. “Do you have a place here?”

Jeongwoo, who had been smiling, shook his head. He sat down. Then he began to recount how he had come to be here in Haeundae, how he had met Junkyu then eventually his brother who had led him here.

“I am as surprised as you are,” Jeongwoo was saying, “but I’m really happy to see you.”

Haruto was quiet. Of all the things Jeongwoo had just said, it seemed the only thing he’d managed to take in was the last part.

“I’m happy to see you, too,” he said, dumbly. He cleared his throat for the second time, which sounded more like a growl.

The door opened. “Sorry,” came Doyoung’s voice, “I changed. Felt a little clammy in that sweater.”

Haruto sat down on the bed. 

“Okay,” said Doyoung, taking a seat across Jeongwoo and setting up his laptop on the coffee table, “let’s start the movie,” and a little dramatic, “ _The White Tiger_.”

Halfway through the movie now, Doyoung picked up his third slice of pizza. He didn’t know why he was feeling particularly famished. He’d had a wonderful dinner just an hour ago. Maybe it was because he’d taken only a light meal during lunch because his head was still dizzy from the ride on the train. 

And so now his stomach was demanding what it was owed. 

“You and you brother don’t look alike.”

Doyoung turned to look at Haruto. He chuckled. “Yeah,” said Doyoung, “but I—well, actually, people often say the opposite.”

“You do look like each other,” said Jeongwoo, then to Haruto, “you haven’t seen the adult Mr. Kim. At first I thought you were twins or something,” he said to Doyoung.

Doyoung smiled. Then they returned to watching.

 _The White Tiger_ was the story of an immigrant woman from Japan. She had left Japan with her only child and stayed in Korea to work there as a veterinarian in a Zoo. The boy, called Shoji, had to adjust with school and language. 

As Shoji couldn’t speak Korean well, he was either teased by his classmates or simply ignored. He was the strange kid. Having earned no friend, at least not yet, Shoji would always go home early to come see his mother at the Zoo instead.

There Shoji would see for the first time a white tiger, alone in his own cage, while the rest were kept together inside another one. Extremely amazed, he asked his mother about it. His mother told him about why it was white and why it was kept away from others. 

Shoji felt an ultimate spiritual pull toward the rare animal. He felt he and the white tiger were the same. And he felt the white tiger was perhaps destined to be his best friend. It was beautiful, too. And he wanted the white tiger all for himself. Like his doll.

_“What’s its name, mom?”_

_“Him,”_ his mother corrected him _, “and he hasn’t got one yet. He’s new here. Like us. Like you.”_

This excited Shoji, strengthened his wishful speculation that he and the white tiger were fated to meet. 

_“Is that why Uncle called you here? To take care of him?”_ he asked his mother.

_“Maybe.”_

_“Can I give him a name?”_

_“You know what,” his mother squatted to meet his eyes, “that would be a great idea. Do you have one?”_

Shoji glanced from his mother to the cage. The white tiger looked back, as if holding his gaze. Shoji smiled. Then he looked at his mother.

 _“I do,”_ he said.

_“You do? What are we going to call him then?”_

Once again, Shoji looked at the white tiger and, smiling, he mumbled, _“Kutetsu_. _”_

Haruto chugged the last of his coke. And he almost spat it out when he saw Jeongwoo wipe tears from his eyes. Haruto swallowed hard then broke out into a hushed laugh.

Beside him, Jeongwoo, who had noticed this, was now holding back a guilty smile. 

Haruto glanced at Doyoung, as if trying to draw out the same reaction from him. 

Doyoung did smile, saying, “It does get a little emotional in that bit.”

They had now reached the climax of the movie, where Doyoung’s brother, or his character, was going away. 

Kim Junkyu’s character, named Jiyoo, had appeared halfway through the movie, at which point Shoji, the protagonist, had become obsessed with the white tiger. It was also at this point where the boy Shoji had started to believe that the white tiger might be a brother given to him by some supernatural force. 

But Jiyoo’s character would put an end to that obsession. He would become Shoji’s best friend, and Shioji, quite quickly, would start seeing the white tiger less until he’d completely stopped.

Jiyoo, however, having come from an impoverished background, ultimately had to quit school and leave Seoul. And Shoji. 

Though it was a happy parting (Haruto thought he liked Jiyoo’s parting message to Shijo), the audience would still feel Shoji's disappointment and bereavement. 

“Why is it so sad,” said Jeongwoo now, quietly because the movie was about to end. His eyes did not leave the screen. Haruto watched the screen light reflected on them, magnifying the glassy look caused by his tears.

“I thought you’ve watched it before,” Haruto heard Doyoung say.

“I did,” said Jeongwoo, “and I thought it was sad, too, at that time. It’s just. . . no one was there to hear it.”

Haruto scoffed. He did this, really, to get Jeongwoo to look at him. But Jeongwoo was laser focused on the screen.

Sighing, Haruto turned his eyes back to the screen.

Shoji was now running. The street was warm-lighted. The sun was low. And judging from the route Shoji was taking, it seemed he was heading to the Zoo for the first time again after a long time. Then his mother appeared, seemingly just walking out of the Zoo. Her shift was over.

She saw her son. She frowned. 

_“Honey, why are you here?”_

But Shoji zoomed past her, went straight into the entrance. His mother followed him. She had a little struggle catching up. She was tired. He was fast.

Then she stopped. 

Shoji was kneeling in front of the white tiger’s cage. She walked toward her boy, slowly, and frowning. She bent over him, wrapped an arm around him.

_“What are you doing, honey?”_

Shoji was quiet, tears rolling down his cheeks. His mother opened his mouth in surprise. Then, hugging his mother, Shoji burst into tears. He said something. He was saying something. But it was muffled. So his mother gently took his crying face to look at hers.

_“What’s wrong, baby?”_

Shoji was sobbing incessantly. Then he glanced toward the cage. _“Both of my best friends,”_ he hiccuped, _“they’ve left me, mommy.”_

Slowly, the camera zoomed in on the cage, now empty. Then the screen faded into black. When it opened again, it was on a ship. The camera would show the audience around. Then it would be revealed to them the cage inside which the white tiger lay asleep. 

Then the screen went black. Permanently this time.

The credits began to roll. 

Jeongwoo had stood up now, walking into the bathroom, laughing at himself. Doyoung was chuckling, getting up to get another slice of pizza. Haruto watched and read the names as they came up. He wanted to see the name of the actor that played Shoji’s character. 

Not that he didn’t know already. But he thought he could use the pride he’d get from seeing the name. Because he knew _him_.

And there it was. 

_Shoji_ — _Takata Mashiho_

As soon as Doyoung had the bite of his pizza and felt that he could no longer swallow another, he knew he’d had his fill. He finished his coke. 

“Haruto, wait,” he said when Haruto was just closing the laptop.

“Oh, sorry.”

“Oh, no, no,” said Doyoung, “it’s—I wanna watch. . . there are bonus features here. I haven’t seen this movie in awhile. I wanna watch the behind-the-scenes. I’m gonna show you guys something you probably haven’t seen before.”

“I knew about the movie,” said Haruto, “but I never got to see it. Until now.”

Doyoung smiled at him. “You’re welcome then?”

Haruto smiled. Just then Jeongwoo walked out of the bathroom, his face tender and pinkish. Haruto snorted. Jeongwoo smiled sheepishly but didn’t look at him.

“Jeongwoo, come,” called Doyoung, “I’ll show you someth—wait where did you watch this movie before? Did you have a CD o—”

“Internet,” answered Jeongwoo, and he didn’t look proud.

“Oh, that’s okay,” said Doyoung, “it’s an old movie anyway. And an indie film. So—”

“That’s why it’s sad,” said Haruto.

“Not all indie films are sad,” said Jeongwoo.

“Sure,” said Haruto, deciding not to argue. 

“Anyway,” said Doyoung to Jeongwoo, “you guys wait.”

Haruto watched as Doyoung clicked for the _Behind the Scenes_.

It began with Mashiho and Junkyu goofing in front of the camera, then more of the same. The two of them getting prepped. The two of them in the Zoo, making funny poses by the cage of the white tiger. Then the camera panned on the white tiger alone, and Haruto found himself looking eye to eye with the white tiger.

Then Mashiho and Junkyu reappeared again. This time their backs were facing the camera. They carried backpacks. It looked like they were just leaving after a shoot. But for some reason they had stalled somewhere in the set. They were talking to another boy. Or rather, Mashiho was talking to the boy. 

Then the cameraman had now seemed to have decided to reveal the boy’s face. The boy, on his part, seemed to have noticed what the cameraman was doing. 

And a young Yoshinori smiled and waved shily at the camera.

Before lifting the cooler out of the back of the car, Kanemoto Yoshinori opened the lid to check it first, as if somehow, over the course of their thirty-minute ride, he’d assumed the contents had magically disappeared. But really, it just came with habit.

He might be used to having someone around him for assistance and stuff, but alone he could do very well himself, too. With that said, when he went to events alone, he went through things meticulously, always checking and rechecking. 

This was how he had started anyway. Independently. 

When he’d first signed on with Jihoon’s then starting company, there wasn’t that much manpower. They literally started from scratch. So Yoshinori had started off pretty much with only himself and his then manager to do all the work. 

“You got it?”

Yoshinori turned to look at Junkyu. Yoshinori didn’t answer because Junkyu took the other end of the holder anyway. 

“You guys found a spot?” asked Yoshinori.

“Yeah,” said Junkyu, “they’re starting the fire.”

They began walking. 

“What’s that?” said Yoshi, nodding at Junkyu’s hand. 

Junkyu looked at it. “Oh,” he held up his hand wrapped around what Yoshinori realized were small twigs, “picked them up, for uh. . . kindling.”

“I thought they’ve already started a fire,” smiled Yoshi.

Junkyu smiled. “Yeah,” he said, “I don’t know. Late reflex, maybe.”

“They might be handy later,” said Yoshinori, grinning.

Junkyu grinned. They walked on. Yoshinori cast a casual glance around the beach. On the other end of the beach, a group gathered around what looked from where Yoshinori and Junkyu stood a tiny ball of fire, the outline of a rising smoke visible against the canvass-like dark water. 

Then Junkyu spoke. “I just remembered,” he said, and Yoshinori looked at him, “I used to want to make _smores_. Never got the chance. But I’d store stocks of marshmallows at home.”

Yoshinori chuckled. “Yeah,” he said, “I remember the first time I was at your house—that’s basically what you gave us.”

Junkyu chuckled.

“Remember that?” laughed Yoshinori. “You served them in—like a bowl.”

“Yeah,” said Junkyu.

“Mashiho enjoyed them tho,” said Yoshinori.

“Hyunsuk-hyung did, too,” smiled Junkyu.

Yoshinori looked back to that day. It was summer, too. He and Mashiho had made a surprise visit. But they hadn’t been the only ones. Later that day, Doyoung returned to their house with Jihoon and Hyunsuk.

But the memory came in fragments now. 

Or maybe Yoshinori was choosing to shove it deep before it could reach out. Because he found he didn’t like that time very much. He had been young at that time. He had been naive. 

He had always been by Mashiho’s side, bearing witness to his cluelessness about how Junkyu truly felt about him. But as Yoshinori came to think of it now, maybe Mashiho had known all along—that Junkyu was head over heels. . . over him. 

Maybe Mashiho had even fed on it, too. Maybe that was the reason he chose to pretend he hadn’t known. Either way, he benefited from it.

Meanwhile Yoshinori could only dream. Get in on the joke, laugh out his chances, with Mashiho as his only access to Junkyu. Even he had not admitted it to himself then. That he was in love with their best friend. _Jiyoo_ , they referred to him. It had been Yoshinori’s idea.

And then there was Jihoon.

“. . . but I can’t believe you found one.”

Yoshinori looked at Junkyu and tried to take in what he had been saying. “Sorry?” he said.

They had now reached Jihoon and Hyunsuk.

“The cooler,” said Junkyu.

Yoshinori blinked at him. “Oh, yeah,” he said as they put it down, “I didn’t expect we’d find one either.”

“Find what?” said Hyunsuk, joining in on whatever they had been talking about.

“The cooler,” said Junkyu, “it’s so l—”

“Ah!” exclaimed Hyunsuk, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. It was just sitting on the stall, like waiting for us. Heaven sent—and we got it cheap, too!”

“Yeah, it was on SALE,” said Yoshinori.

“So last minute,” said Hyunsuk, shaking his head in a pleased manner.

Out of the corner of his eye, Yoshinori saw Jihoon walk toward them. He bent to open the cooler. But just then Junkyu decided to do the same thing but neither realized this so they ended up bumping their heads. 

Quickly they retracted, with Junkyu wincing. They looked at each other. Yoshinori heard Hyunsuk let out an amused laugh. 

Yoshinori looked away.

He sat down on the soft sand. He saw Junkyu do the same, leaving Jihoon and Hyunsuk to unload the cooler. Then he sat down, too, looking down into the small fire.

The sight brought Yoshinori back to that day he came into the W. Studios to audition for a role he’d failed to get anyway. Junkyu had been serving as an intern there. Yoshinori had found him sitting alone in the lobby that day, head downcast.

“Junkyu?” he’d said, slowly, as he’d approached.

Junkyu had looked up, evidently surprised to see him. “Yoshinori.”

“What are you doing here?”

And that was when Jihoon had appeared from a door. He looked devastated. Then furious.

Yoshinori had watched as Jihoon looked at Junkyu. He had looked like he was going to explode. His lips were pursed.

“What’s up?” Yoshinori had asked Jihoon. But he hadn’t even looked like he’d heard him. He was looking at Junkyu intensely. Yoshinori, confused, had looked at Junkyu. 

And he had never seen Junkyu so. . . shamefaced.

“I hope this makes you happy,” came Jihoon’s quiet—and surprisingly calm—voice. “I really do.”

Then Jihoon walked away. Yoshinori had wanted to call him back, but just then someone came out of the door. Two, actually. 

“Mashiho?” 

Mashiho had only looked at him. Then to Junkyu, who had turned completely quiet.

“Hey, Yoshi,” Hyunsuk had greeted. 

“Hyung, what’s u—”

Junkyu had sprang to his feet, then ran away. Yoshinori had looked at Hyunsuk, but he looked just as surprised, even saying, “What’s wrong with him?”

Yoshinori hadn’t known then. What he could tell you instead was that ever since that day took place, he had started seeing more of Junkyu. And he and Junkyu got closer. 

And Yoshinori enjoyed it while it lasted. He played the part of a comfort boyfriend. 

But Mashiho would join the picture once again. And Junkyu. . . well, he had always been easily distracted.

The fire cackled. 

Junkyu blinked his eyes, snapping out of his reverie. And when he looked around him, he caught Yoshinori to his left staring at him. And when their eyes met, he smiled at him. Junkyu smiled back then looked away.

He hugged his knees closer to his chest, staring back into the flame that had now grown bigger. This time, however, he did not allow his mind to relapse into a trance. He began to tune in on what the three men were currently talking about. 

They had now moved on from sports to recalling friends from college, each of them contributing their own recounts of their encounters with said ‘friends’. 

Fleetingly, Junkyu dared a look across the fire—toward Jihoon. He was listening to Hyunsuk to his left. Junkyu looked away.

And that was when he caught Yoshinori’s gaze again. But this time, it was Yoshinori who looked away.

Junkyu swallowed, blinking. He stared back into the fire. 

But even though fascinated by the fiery flicker of the orange flame, rising and growing then receding back again, as though it were dancing and leaping up and down, something else occupied Junkyu’s head now.

And it was as if he were projecting it— _them_ —into the fire. . . and the _faces_ stared back at him. 

Junkyu drew a deep breath, and he must have done a little too loudly, too, for the other three men turned to look at him.

“You okay, Kyu?” asked Hyunsuk.

Junkyu, who definitely did not want the attention, forced a chuckle. “Yeah,” he said, “you guys don’t mind me.”

He looked down, hyper-aware of Jihoon and Yoshinori’s eyes on him. 

_‘. . . and the two men he’s dated. . .’_

Why must Hyunsuk-hyung have to bring that up?

_‘. . . and broke their poor hearts. . .’_

Clearly, Junkyu had underestimated that dinner. He had prepared for it. When Hyunsuk had reached out to him, he knew that he would plan to get Jihoon, too. And Junkyu had been ready for that. 

But he hadn’t been ready for Yoshinori. And his brother. 

It was just too much.

Junkyu cleared his throat. He stood up. “Bathroom break,” he announced. But then just as he was turning he realized he didn’t know exactly where he could go for that, so he halted. And before he could turn. . .

“I’ll go with you,” said Jihoon. 

This time Junkyu did turn. “You don’t have to,” he said, “just tell me where it—”

“I need to pee,” said Jihoon.

Blushing, Junkyu walked on. And after a few seconds, he felt Jihoon behind him. His cologne had always been a give away.

“Why are you so quiet,” Junkyu heard him say. 

He didn’t answer him, only hugged himself. Then suddenly Jihoon was walking beside him. “You didn’t have to come,” he said.

Junkyu scoffed. “Yeah, right,” he said, “but would you guys have gone without me?”

And regret instantly came washing over him. 

_Fuck, fuck, fuck. Congratulations, Junkyu! You just sounded like a conceited ass_ —

“Well,” said Jihoon, smirk on his face, “that’s true.”

“No,” said Junkyu, “what I meant—I didn’t—I meant Hyunsuk-hyung planned it assuming I’m—that I would come. . .”

Jihoon stared at him. “I get it the first time.”

 _Of course you freaking do_.

Junkyu looked away. It was best to shut his mouth at this point.

“Are you and Mashiho,” he heard Jihoon begin again, “still in touch?”

Junkyu didn’t know how that question got him to think of Jihoon’s ( _ex_ )girlfriend, but it did. At the dinner earlier, Hyunsuk had asked Jihoon about her. And when he plainly said that they were no longer together, Junkyu had almost snorted. 

But then Yoshinori had said, with a hint of a tease, “Does she know tho?” He had then looked at Jihoon and grinned.

“Yoshi, what do you mean by that?” Hyunsuk had asked. But when Yoshinori hadn’t answered, it seemed he had just worked it out by himself alone. And he made a gasping sound. “Is it what I think it is?”

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, hyung,” Yoshinori had simply said.

But everybody had gotten the picture Yoshinori had painted. And Junkyu, though still uncertain, had chosen to believe it, finally understanding the situation and why Jihoon had said that he had overreacted.

And now, as Junkyu walked on, his knuckle touching with Jihoon’s, he thought of how he could best answer Jihoon’s question. But what he gave Jihoon was another question.

“Yoshinori’s song,” he began, “. . . was it really your idea?”

Jihoon looked at him, then away. “You already know the answer.”

Junkyu was quiet, trying not to look as pleased. 

Weeks before they were accepted to intern in the W. Studios, they were made to write an essay on why they deserved to be given the chance. When Jihoon had shown his to Junkyu, though it had been sincere and written well, it hadn’t been exactly the type the company would consider. Junkyu should know.

So he had helped Jihoon. He had suggested that he referenced _The White Tiger_. It had confused Jihoon, at first, asking Junkyu what he was meaning. And so Junkyu had asked Jihoon to put himself into the shoes of Mashiho’s character, Shoji, from the movie. 

“Tell them,” Junkyu had said, “that even though you have less experience, you’re. . . one of a kind.”

They had talked over the phone. And Jihoon had been quiet for a moment. Then he’d chuckled. “And how does that relate to the movie?”

“Like Shoji, you’re. . . you’ll prove that you’re just as capable,” said Junkyu, “and that if you’d ever need help, you have trusted friends around the company. . . like me.”

Then there was the silence again. It had always amused Junkyu. Face to face, Jihoon would be this raging talking machine. But somehow, over the phone, he would take longer pauses when he and Junkyu talked. Junkyu had always taken pleasure at that. 

“So you’re like. . . my Jiyoo,” Jihoon had said. 

Junkyu had blushed. He didn't know what to say. But that had been the benefit of phone calls, because the person on the other end of the line would never be able to tell.

In the end, Jihoon had only laughed then had told Junkyu that he would try that night, and he would show it to Junkyu the next morning.

And he had. And Junkyu had helped better it. And had edited out some. . . things.

Because Jihoon had indeed put the Jiyoo joke there: _I may have a Jiyoo of my own in your company, someone who can help me out._

Reading that had embarrassed Junkyu, so he had removed that. 

But Jihoon had been right in some sense. 

Because Junkyu would later on do exactly what Jiyoo had to do.

By the time Junkyu and Jihoon had returned, Hyunsuk and Yoshinori were chomping on the barbeque they had bought along a street somewhere in Haeundae.

Junkyu smiled. Yoshinori looked up at him and, chewing, offered Junkyu a stick.

“No, thank you,” smiled Junkyu, “I’m fine with my chocolate,” sitting down on the sand again, he grabbed the thermos he had filled with hot chocolate from a convenience store. He held it up. Yoshinori smiled.

When Junkyu looked across him, Hyunsuk was now handing Jihoon a barbecue. 

“Hey, hey,” said Hyunsuk, “let’s put on some music while we. . . ” he trailed off.

“Gorge on meat,” Yoshinori finished.

“Yeah,” cheered Hyunsuk, “you’re my boy, Yoshi. Now, wait. . .” he started going through his phone, scrolling, “Nope. Nope. Nope. . . Oh, wait. Let me look up. . . there! White Tigah!”

The familiar introductory buzzing of the trumpet-like sound blasted. Techno-beats. Then silence. One more beat drop, then came Yoshinori’s voice.

Hyunsuk started bobbing his head, casually rapping some phrases from the first verse. Then when the song reached the chorus, he sang, too. Yoshinori watched in awe and pride, smiling at Hyunsuk, bobbing his head as well.

Now came the second verse of the rap.

This time, Hyunsuk did the whole thing:

_‘. . ._

_I’m like a White Tiger_

_I’m a, I’m a different kind_

_Like a White Tiger_

_Rarest of the rarest, you can’t find_

_any other, Shoji-ssi,_

_He be trusting me_

_Jiyoo-ssi, he be friends with me_

_too, Will you do_

_you and I a favor_

_Get it on the table_

_Let the neighbors_

_watch n’ put it on the record_

_Imma make an effort_

_to give a show_

_Good show_

_We be free_

_I’m your ‘Dy_

_You can call me YOurs-SHI!’_

Junkyu chuckled as soon as Hyunsuk finished that part. But that smile would slide off his face as soon he looked up and found both Jihoon and Yoshinori looking at him. 

He blinked. He didn’t know what to do.

Or maybe he did. 

He remembered what Mashiho had told him once, and something he had taken to heart because he had proven it to be true. In more ways than one.

“ _Anything can set you off, Junkyu_ . . .” Mashiho had said, “ _but you never have to show them. You never have to let them know_.”

_“How do you do that?”_

_“Simple_ ,” Mashiho had smiled. “ _Always keep your head down_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> U guys stream Yoshi's 'White Tiger'(don't rap the 2nd verse when ur mom's around) or watch 'The White Tiger' while I brew you some scandal.


	6. Black Sheep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. This is that chapter. 
> 
> BUT FIRST! Lemme just scream my lungs out over the WEBDRAMA. Fooking hail. It was like TREASURE’s way of telling me: Go on, Meadea, we allow ur shvt. We even cast Junkyu as the stereotype aegyo boy that everybody falls in love with because isn’t he just cute? And we know u like that shvt, Meadea.
> 
> Um, yaaas, YG! I do. What is KPOP without Fanfiction? News. Ugh!  
> NOW, NOW! Onto the chapter. You’ve been kept in the dark long enough. It’s time for u guys to see the light of day. 
> 
> Be my guest.

**_Tokyo, Japan_ ** _(Four Months Ago)_

For the record, Tokyo had always been on Bang Yedam’s bucket list. _Isn’t it on everyone’s?_ But of all the reasons he’d made a mental list for coming, he’d never thought it would be to meet an actor that would finally get his ass here.

Sure he had it all planned. Of course he did. He’d had it all played out in his head. 

Still, as Yedam squinted against the bright azure sky that stretched across the entirety of the kaleidoscopic capital, he couldn’t help but feel a little. . . spellbound. 

Yedam smiled to himself. _Spellbound? Really? Who are you, Sakura the Card Captor?_

Yedam shifted in his seat and turned his hand to look at his wristwatch. _Why am I nervous_? Fixing his bangs, he took out the small pad of notebook from his messenger bag. It seemed silly bringing and being something conventional, but Yedam was old-fashioned. And besides, he didn’t want to seem like doubling up on the actor himself.

Yedam flipped through pages of old and new notes, going back especially to what he’d gathered from the past few months, maybe years, even. This was a dream come true. To finally be able to write about the _real stuff_ —the _big stuff_.

Well, actually, he might have gotten it out of his system a long time ago. He’d been close to the best _source_ _himself_ , if only said source hadn’t been such a spoilsport. 

But maybe it had to happen. Because at least it led Yedam to a much better one.

Then eventually to Takata Mashiho.

Who he was waiting for. Yedam glanced over his shoulder, toward the bead-curtained archway that led out into the balcony of the cafe. No sign of the actor. Yedam sighed. The longer he waited, the more skittish he was becoming. He looked ahead of him, at the back of a woman who was the only other person—or the only adult—there than him. She was with a child, about four, five years old.

The cafe was _Members Only_ and baby-friendly. Yedam, of course, was not a member. Takata Mashiho was. Yedam could understand why the actor had chosen the place. Crazy fans would less expect a bachelor like Takata Mashiho to visit a place like this. Still, Yedam thought, if the actor wasn’t careful and accidentally fell under the radar of notorious paparazzis, the next time Takata Mashiho saw his name on the tabloids, he'd be a father _._

But that could turn out as good publicity, too.

Yedam heard footsteps and voices. He glanced behind him once again, but he found himself looking instead at two boys running toward an unoccupied table. They were followed by an elderly man.

Yedam turned back to his notes. Then he decided to finally take out his laptop and have the draft he'd pre-written ready. Just then he heard another series of footsteps, but this time he didn't turn, assuming it was just another regular.

"Good morning."

Yedam looked up. Seeing Takata Mashiho, he stood up to shake the actor's hand. "Mr. Takata," he smiled, "thank you so much for allowing this meeting. Pleasure to finally meet you."

"Ah," chuckled Taka Mashiho, "come on. Just Mashiho, please. We're past the introductions."

Yedam chuckled. He and the actor had already talked over the phone and had even Skyped prior to this meeting. Three days ago, Yedam had also met with the actor's handler.

Yedam and Mashiho took a seat. Furtively, as the actor removed his cap, Yedam noted how Mashiho had dressed for this, and Yedam thanked the gods he himself hadn't overdressed.

The actor was wearing a long-sleeved plain shirt, quite a little too loose around his body, making him look like one of those street dancers he'd often see out in his block in New York.

"You haven't got yourself anything," said Mashiho.

Yedam looked on. He smiled kindly. "I'm sorry?"

"I wish you'd gotten yourself at least a coffee."

"Oh," chuckled Yedam, "no, I'm—It's fine."

But a guy in all black—even his fitted apron—was already heading toward their table, tray in hand. As he set out Mashiho's order, Yedam saw out of the corner of his eyes another guy walk into the table of the elderly man and his grandsons.

Once the guy had disappeared, Mashiho said, "It's your first time around here?"

"Oh, yeah. First time in Japan, actually."

Mashiho flashed a smile. "Well, New York has everything."

Yedam smiled. "No, not really," he said, "but I've always wanted to travel around here. Just. . . never got the time."

"But you obviously have now," Mashiho laughed.

"I have all the time now," laughed Yedam.

As Mashiho took a sip of his coffee, Yedam turned the screen towards him. Mashiho leaned forward. Yedam, embarrassingly, pushed it toward the actor.

"Oh, thanks," smiled Mashiho. 

With his fork, Yedam sliced a portion of his cake. He chewed. 

_This is good._

Then Yedam heard Mashiho chuckle. When he looked up to see, Mashiho was looking at the screen. 

"What is it?" Yedam asked curiously.

"This part," Mashiho began, pointing onto the screen although he was the only one who could see it, "the _Rookie Years in W. Studios_. . ."

Yedam waited. "What about it?"

"Well. . ." But Mashiho didn't finish that. He looked at Yedam instead, smiling a boyish smile that even surprised Yedam. Then, almost reluctantly, he said, "Does Junkyu know about _this_?" 

Yedam tried to hold back a smile. He understood. "No," he said, "he doesn't. You can trust me, none of this ha—"

"No, no," said Mashiho, chuckling, "it's. . . it's nothing like that. I just. . . Well, _that_ was a _phase_."

Yedam hid his glee. _I know_.

Mashihi, who had seemed lost for a moment, now looked up with a smile at Yedam. "Tell me again," he began, "you and Junkyu worked together?"

"Oh, no, not really," said Yedam, "we worked for different Magazines. But we stayed in the same neighborhood in N.Y."

"Oh, yeah, yeah," said Mashiho, nodding his head, "you've mentioned that."

Yedam smiled. Then they once again fell into a momentary silence, during which Yedam enjoyed his cake and the actor read through the bullet-point draft Yedam had prepared.

Another chuckle from Mashiho.

Yedam sniffed, smiling. "Mind sharing your thoughts, Mr. Takata?" he said, ignoring Mashiho's kind refusal with the formality.

Mashiho smiled. Looking at Yedam, he licked his lips. "How did you get all this?"

Yedam held back a smirk. "What do you mean, Mr. Takata?" He said. "You're quite the _star_ , if you haven't realized that already."

Mashiho let out a humble scoff. He leaned back in his chair and, taking a sip of his coffee, seemed to consider what he was seeing on screen.

Yedam thought he knew what the actor was thinking. But he wished he was wrong. When Yedam had talked to Mashiho's handler, she'd expressed Mashiho's uncertainty about the _book_ , thus calling for a personal meeting between Yedam and Mashiho himself. 

"Is Junkyu," Mashiho began again, "not planning on coming back home?"

 _Here's your chance_ . _Sell it_ , _Yedam_ . _Make the bet!_

"I'm not sure yet," said Yedam, "but I think he does plan to. In the summer. I mean when I finished my contract, I told him about my plan—I mean coming back to Korea. And he did—mention he plans to do the same. Maybe visit Busan, he said."

Mashiho looked up at this. "Busan?"

 _Bingo_. 

"Yeah," said Yedam, "you see, Junkyu's written a book. He's working on the sequel, and he. . . well, maybe he needs a vacation for that." Yedam chuckled.

Mashiho nodded, smiling. "Yeah, heard about that," here he looked into space, "brave of him to do that."

 _Yes. And it's your turn_.

"All of you guys," said Yedam, "have been."

Mashiho looked up. "What do you mean?"

"Well, the. . ." Yedam gestured toward the laptop, ". . . _Rookie Years in W. Studios_. . . I particularly enjoyed researching it—I mean at least those that I was able to find. But I was able to, um, talk to a former employee in the studios. And she told me. . . well, quite a good story."

Yedam could see, through the look on the actor's face that he had got his attention now. 

"Yeah?" said the actor. "What did she say?"

"Nothing personal," said Yedam, "just. . . Well, she said she used to love watching you _guys_ lounging around the cafeteria at the studios, sharing banters."

Mashiho laughed. "Ah, yes," he said, "well, I was more of a. . . I wasn't around that much. Yoshinori was. And wh—hey, are you. . . Is Choi Hyunsuk really starting his own Talent agency?"

"In Korea they keep addressing it as a rumor," said Yedam, "but I think he already has."

Mashiho chuckled. " _Leader Choi_. . ."

"You guys called him that?"

Mashiho smiled at Yedam, sighing. "Yeah," he said, "back when the three of them were working—or something—at the studios," then he let out a laugh.

Yedam smiled at him. "What is it?"

Mashiho looked at him, smiling big. "Well, as I said I was never really around that much," he began, "but when I was with them Choi Hyunsuk would refer to me as 'Yoshinori's friend'," he chuckled here, "I always found that funny."

"Yeah? Why is that?"

"Hmm?"

"I mean," Yedam said, "why did Mr. Choi like to call you that?"

Mshiho seemed to not understand the question at first. Then he chuckled. "It was a joke," he said, "because Jihoon once referred to me as the—their 'Celebrity friend'—another joke. Then Junkyu said they should pull me down their ranks so that I was ‘less intimidating’."

Yedam smiled. "So you became simply 'Yoshinori's friend'."

Mashiho grinned. "Exactly," he said, "then years later Yoshinori tops the charts," he laughed.

"Ironies of life," smiled Yedam. "Can I put that on the book, Mr. Takata? It's a really nice t—oh, sorry," he stopped, "you haven't even said Yes yet. And I've already assumed—"

"No, go ahead," said Mashiho. "Put it."

Yedam blinked. "So. . ."

Mashiho looked at him. Then, realizing he hadn't made himself clear, "Oh, we can go with the book. Yeah."

Yedam's smile broadened. "Thank you, Mr. Takata."

"No," said Mashiho, taking another sip of his coffee, "the pleasure is mine. I know it will be in good hands."

_Well. . ._

Yedam took out a folder from his bag. "This is just a. . . Well, kind of an agreement letter, Mr. Takata," he began, pushing the paper toward Mashiho, "A waiver of sorts."

Mashiho took it. "What's this for?" He started reading it.

"I need that for your handler," said Yedam, "I need to—"

"Ah," said Mashiho, understanding, "yeah, sorry. We talked about it."

"He left the choice in your hands," said Yedam.

"Yeah," said Mashiho, "but I could just call him I've agreed," he smiled at Yedam.

Yedam mirrored it. "It'll be best to have it on the record, Mr. Takata."

Mashiho grinned. He shrugged. He took the pen from Yedam. He signed the paper, then handed it back to Yedam. Yedam tucked it back inside the folder.

_Now for the spices._

"Um, Mr. Takata," Yedam began again, "I, uh. . . Your years in W. Studios really intrigues me. But do you. . . Will you be as kind as to. . . _share_ why. . ."

Yedam pretended to be thinking how to say it best.

". . . why Park Jihoon's Internship there was cut short?"

**_Busan_ ** _(Present Day)_

Jihoon woke up feeling a tickling sensation in his nostrils. And it was as he fluttered his eyes open that he found himself looking down into a silky mop of black hair that smelled of. . . Dahlias. 

Jihoon smiled satisfyingly to himself, the memories from last night creeping back as soon as Junkyu's familiar scent filled the small space between them. 

If there was indeed a space, given that Junkyu was glued to his body right now, his head rested against Jihoon's chest. 

Jihoon could only hope his shirt did not stink of sweat. Hours of sitting in front of the fire and the alcohol had boiled enough heat in his body last night and easily drenched him in sweat.

Turning his face slightly to the other side of his hotel room, Jihoon squinted against the harsh sunlight streaming into his room. The curtains were widely drawn. 

He smiled again. 

He wanted to squeeze Junkyu's body tighter to his, intoxicating himself with Junkyu's perfume, but he didn't want to wake him up. 

It was Junkyu who had driven them back to Haeundae last night, a shock to Jihoon because he'd never seen Junkyu drive before. Not after eight or nine years ago.

Their Internship at _W. Studios_ had helped afford Jihoon a beat-up Sedan he'd been saving up for since college. He'd bought it from his uncle.

The first time Jihoon had used it marked their first three months in the studios. He'd spent all day that day being quiet, trying so hard to suppress his excitement.

Because he was planning to take Junkyu out on a date that day. After their shift. 

But things don't always go your way, does it?

Later that day, Hyunsuk had found out about the car. That afternoon he was just returning from an errand, and he'd immediately asked Jihoon about it, teased him about it. 

"You'll drive us home, later!"

"How did you. . ."

"Yoshinori saw you driving it this morning! Saw him on the stop. Told me about it. So when I got back, I checked! Damn, Jihoon, hot red, huh?"

So Jihoon had no choice but to drag Hyunsuk, too. But that was fine. Because between awkward pauses, the latter had been there to fill for Jihoon. 

Like he'd always been.

And after the dinner outside, Hyunsuk had left them alone anyway, finally giving Jihoon the chance to be alone with Junkyu. But that hadn't favored Jihoon either, because at that point he'd already presumed that Hyunsuk would be with them all night, and Jihoon had needed him. To be the relief. To buy Jihoon some time.

Thankfully though, Junkyu had been surprisingly calm and tolerant that night. He had even allowed Jihoon to drive around Seokchon Lake. 

"Let's just watch from here," Junkyu had said just as Jihoon was opening the door to his side.

"Why?"

"I'm. . . It's cold outside."

"Oh. Okay."

So the two of them had remained inside the car. Quiet. Tired. . . Waiting. 

But Junkyu was never the one to talk first, Jihoon should have known that. Four years at the University, and throughout those years, it had always been Jihoon who made the move first. 

And so, pulling himself together, Jihoon had sat up straight, one hand on the steering wheel, and faced Junkyu. "What are we really, Junkyu?"

Jihoon hadn't even known that that was what was going to come out of his mouth. All he'd known was that he'd needed to finally know, because for god's sake, they were turning to another point of their lives, as the Internship was going to be the last time they were young and yet committed. 

And Jihoon had needed to know for certain. Because then he was ready to build a future. And he'd needed to know if Junkyu wanted to have a part in it.

Junkyu had put his hand over Jihoon. He had opened his mouth to say something, but he seemed to be struggling. . . 

"Junky—"

Then Junkyu reached out and gave a quick peck on Jihoon's cheek.

And that was all that Jihoon had needed. That had been more than enough.

Jihoon had never felt so happy. And so sure. Junkyu was a person of few words. Literally. And when he said things, it was fixed. He stood by it. He took responsibility for it. And so, unclear might that kiss have been, Jihoon had taken that as an answer, because he'd known Junkyu would know he would.

Then, as Jihoon had driven Junkyu back to his apartment that night, before stepping out of the car, Junkyu had put his hand over Jihoon's once more and said, "I. . . Thank you for trusting me."

Jihoon hadn't known what Junkyu had really meant by that. But he hadn't really cared. He had waited for four years for that moment. So he had only smiled as he saw Junkyu off.

Two months later after that night, Jihoon would understand.

Junkyu opened his eyes only to close them again. He was still very sleepy, and the weight of his eyelids was forcing him to go back deep into slumber.

_Is that really the only reason?_

Gently Junkyu removed himself from Jihoon and reached for his phone on the bedside table. He had got three messages. 

All from Yoshinori.

With a small smile, Junkyu opened them. One contained a greeting that said: _Good morning. Hope you had a good sleep._ Junkyu looked at the time. It was eleven. The greeting was sent three hours ago. 

The other message was a photo of Yoshinori by the pool, wearing sunglasses, with So Junghwan behind him, reading something. The last message read: _First day of shooting_.

This got Junkyu thinking about Jeongwoo. 

Junkyu glanced beside him. And he almost jumped out of his skin when he realized Jihoon was awake. 

Noting Junkyu's surprise, Jihoon's lips slowly curled into a smile. Then, "Hi."

Junkyu stared at Jihoon, watched him as he tucked one hand under his head. Junkyu looked away, biting his lower lip to hold back a smile.

Then he swung his legs off the bed. But he didn't move. "We're going back to Yeongdo," he said. 

"But your friend's just starting," said Jihoon.

Junkyu thought about Asahi. Junkyu had promised Jaehyuk he would be around the whole time until Asahi's parts were shot, then they would all return to Yeongdo if they liked. But he'd also promised(lied to) Jeongwoo that they would only stay here for three days.

And all Junkyu did was leave the boy at Jaehyuk's disposal.

"Yeah, but," said Junkyu, "I brought Jeongwoo here against his will. Basically forced him. I can—"

"I think," said Jihoon, "he's having fun here."

Junkyu didn't say anything. 

Then he felt Jihoon's hand over his. "And so are you," said the older man.

Junkyu swallowed. He stood up. "I gotta go," he said, then reluctantly and not meeting Jihoon's eyes, "Jihoon."

Jihoon was quiet. So Junkyu had to look up. And when he did he found Jihoon off the bed, bent on something on the floor. When he stood up straight, he was holding a paper bag.

"I got you this," he said, walking toward Junkyu, "you can—"

"What's that?"

"Clothes," said Jihoon, "you can change into them."

Junkyu frowned at him. "No," he said, "but thank you."

Jihoon smiled. Then his eyes lowered on Junkyu's shirt. Junkyu looked. There was a long, thin chocolate stain on the right side, from his chest down to his belly. He remembered how it had gotten there last night. He looked up at Jihoon.

"Sorry for that," Jihoon smiled.

Junkyu looked at him for a moment. Then, sighing, he took the bag from Jihoon. Junkyu headed for the bathroom.

"There's a towel ready," Jihoon called behind him, "if you want to take a shower."

Junkyu stopped to look at him. 

"I can join you if you want," smiled Jihoon.

Junkyu ignored him. Before stepping into the bathroom, he took the clothes from the bag and put the bag down by the door. Then he shut the door. 

As soon as cold water hit Junkyu's skin, he felt a surprising rush of pleasure course through his body. And then as if along with the water, memory from last night came washing over him.

Just as the clock was striking one, he'd managed to convince the other men to return to Haeundae. He'd volunteered to take the wheel.

Jihoon had somehow debated against it, and it was at that point that Junkyu was reminded of their time in college. 

Especially what had happened after he had (unwillingly) humiliated Jihoon in Gwangali when the latter had. . . _confessed_.

They had never talked to each other after that. Not until summer break, when Doyoung had brought Jihoon—and Hyunsuk—to their house. 

He'd managed to move past what Jihoon had done. And as he had also been aware that he had, yet again, handled the situation terribly, Junkyu had put it behind him and welcomed Jihoon in his life again.

The beginning of second year in college had been a rocky phase for Junkyu. Now, because of what Jihoon had done, Junkyu had become a constant subject of stupid talks in the lobby, and he'd even started getting indirect but nasty insults by homophobic male students.

Things were less unpleasant when he was with Hyunsuk. Still, Junkyu had begun to harbor a growing hate toward Jihoon.

So he would ignore Jihoon everytime the latter ran into him. He could have easily pushed him away, too, but he didn't want to give _them_ the satisfaction. He didn't want them to think that he was embarrassed. That he was ashamed.

He would give Jihoon monosyllabic replies. And when he could, Junkyu would hide from him.

Eventually, Jihoon would learn of this. Junkyu never knew how, maybe Jihoon had simply realized what Junkyu had been doing. And so one day Jihoon had confront him.

"Are you avoiding me?"

"What makes you think that?"

"I'm not stupid, Junkyu."

"Who said you are?"

"You're treating me like one."

"That's absurd."

"It is. I thought you forgave me already."

"I have, Jihoon."

"Bullshit."

Since then, Jihoon had started giving Junkyu a taste of his own medicine. But that had only furthered Junkyu's rage toward him. And they had spent that whole year with no more than cold brushes of shoulder. Hyunsuk had tried to set them up together through lunches and dinners and parties, but both had been smart. 

But things would change at the beginning of their third year. 

Mashiho, who was then already quite popular in the Television, would start to frequent the University simply to meet with Junkyu. And he would bring Yoshinori with him.

Junkyu had been against the idea at first, because it had only directed more attention to him. But he'd also begun to notice that, slowly, students were beginning to see him in a different light. New light. So he'd allowed it.

But girls would soon lose their shyness and would start to corner not just Mashiho, but Yoshinori, too. Mashiho was used to this. Yoshinori, however, would be overwhelmed. This was where Junkyu would step in to save Yoshinori from crazed students.

And this was where Jihoon would start to talk to Junkyu again.

It happened one Friday afternoon. Junkyu had to stay late in school with his staff for the School Paper. Mashiho and Yoshinori had been there that afternoon to fetch Junkyu, but Junkyu obviously couldn't go with them.

"See you next week then," Yoshinori had told him then, leaving with Mashiho.

And it was shortly after the two had left the school that Jihoon had appeared. 

"God," Junkyu breathed in surprise, "what are you doing here?"

Jihoon had only looked at him. Then, "I'm sorry. Junkyu, I'm sorry."

"What. . . what are you apologizing for?"

"For fighting fire with fire."

"What?"

"Just please. Give me another chance."

"I don't—"

"I know you're in love with him."

"What?"

"But I know, too, that Mashiho will never return it."

"Jihoon, wh—"

"But his friend. . . Yoshinori. . . I saw how he looks at you. I. . . I know that look."

"Jih—"

"Just. . . Can we be friends again?"

Junkyu couldn't remember now how he'd felt that time or what he'd been thinking except for the fact that his staff was waiting for him.

"Fine, whatever," he'd said, "god, Jihoon. Now I gotta go."

A knock.

Junkyu blinked. And it was as if he was feeling the water for the first time since he'd entered the bathroom.

Another knock.

Junkyu frowned. "What?"

"Junkyu?"

"What?" Junkyu yelled.

A short silence. Then, "Nothing."

Junkyu wondered how long he had been in the shower. Deciding he'd had enough, he turned off the shower, grabbed the towel and reached for his new clothes. 

But as he caught sight once again of the stain on his discarded shirt from last night, he thought back to how that had happened. 

Once Junkyu had dropped off Hyunsuk and Yoshinori, he'd volunteered to drive Jihoon to where he'd rented the car. But before finally returning it, they had talked.

And the alcohol had somehow helped unveil the business-like persona Jihoon wore. He'd spoken in _satoori_. Like he used to. In college.

"I thought," Jihoon had begun, "I was over this. . . I thought. . . I was over you."

Junkyu had remained quiet. He was tired. And he was sleepy.

"But when you let me in. . . back in Seoul. . ."

"Jihoon—"

"Okay, okay. Let's forget about that. Let's forget about anything. Forget about the past. . ."

_". . . I didn't betray you. . . you gave up on me. . ."_

Then he had looked at Junkyu the way he had looked at him the first time he'd showed Junkyu around in his Sedan. 

"Junkyu. . . let's start again."

Junkyu had only swallowed, hadn't answered. Then he'd grabbed his thermos and gestured for Jihoon to come out of the car and return the key himself. Jihoon did so.

Junkyu had waited outside the small building. And he had just been drinking from his thermos when he'd felt someone hug him from behind, causing a little of the chocolate to spill.

"Shit."

"Oh, Junkyu, sorry, le—"

"No, it's okay. It's not that much."

Junkyu had wiped it dry with his own hand. 

"Junkyu."

"Hmm?"

"You haven't given me an answer yet."

"What?"

But Jihoon had only looked at him. Remembering, Junkyu looked back. Then looked away.

Then he felt Jihoon take his hand. "Come with me," he heard him say.

Junkyu looked up, unspeaking.

"If you come with me," said Jihoon, "I'd take it as a yes."

"Jihoon, I think you're drunk."

"You know I'm not," said Jihoon, "but if you want that as cover for coming, then be it. Let's pretend I am. Just. . . just come with me. Now."

Jihoon's cologne and his sharp accent did it all. Or at least Junkyu told himself that. 

And that was how Junkyu was here.

Pulling himself together, Junkyu dressed in haste then stepped out of the bathroom. 

"Your friend called," said Jihoon as soon as he was out. 

"Who?"

"Yoon Jaehyuk?"

"Oh." Junkyu took his phone from Jihoon. 

"Sorry I took the call," he said, "I told him you're in the shower.

Junkyu looked up. "Did you have to say that?"

"Why?"

Junkyu looked at Jihoon. He was smiling, but he'd looked away. Junkyu sighed.

"I need to go," he said. 

"Want me to—"

"No, it's okay," said Junkyu, "but thanks. . . for the clothes."

Junkyu had now turned but Jihoon said, "Thank you, Junkyu."

Junkyu turned to look at him again, waiting.

"For staying," Jihoon finished.

Hesitantly, Junkyu gave a small nod. Then he left.

Once he was out of the building, he called Jaehyuk back. 

"Jaehyuk?"

" _Junkyu, hey. Where are you?_ "

"I'm walking back to the hotel. Something happened?"

" _Oh, no, no. Did I disturb. . . anything? It's nothing. Just. . . gossip."_

"What?"

" _Takata Mashiho."_

Junkyu stopped. "What about him?"

" _Just get back here. I'll tell you._ "

"No, tell me now, Jaehyuk. Please."

" _Well. . . Asahi told me really. It's. . . Well, Mashiho's getting out a book."_

"A book?"

" _Yeah. A memoir? Something like that."_

"O. . . kay?"

_"Guess who's writing it."_

Junkyu forced out a chuckle. "I'm terrible at guessing, Jae."

" _It's. . . Yedam._ "

Junkyu's smile slid off of his face. He swallowed. "I'll see you there, Jae. Bye."

**_Gangnam_ **

Yedam was sitting out on the terrace of his apartment, sipping his tea when he'd finally learned of the article.

_Made in Korea, From Japan: Takata Mashiho Writes First Memoir_

_Japanese(Korea begs to differ) Actor Takata Mashiho is writing first ever memoir and will be taking us through his rise into stardom from 'The White Tiger' to his latest thriller series 'Faint'._

_Former New York Journalist—Korean native—Bang Yedam helped write the. . ._

Yedam didn't have to go back to the article again to remember what was written in the first two paragraphs. He'd memorized it.

He smiled now. He was on his second cup of tea and was in the middle of going through the final draft of Mashiho's memoir.

In just three months, he'd managed to finish a full draft. The truth was, before he'd approached Mashiho's handler, Yedam had been writing about it. 

If someone asked him now how he'd been sure it was going to happen, he might not be able to give that person a clear answer. But he did know one thing for sure. 

He'd wanted this so bad.

And as soon as _it_ had been green-lighted, Yedam had poured himself into it, using all his resources and those that he had gathered. It had helped, too, that Mashiho had entrusted in him his journals. 

It had been the best three months of Yedam's life.

And now it was just a few months away from hitting the shelves. And hopefully the charts, too.

Yedam was just picking up his pen when his phone rang. And his eyes widened when he saw who it was. Picking up, he smiled big. 

"Hey. . . Yeah, I'm in the middle of it, actually. . . Maybe," he chuckled here, "You know I can't. . . Well, you'll be first. . . I'll hand it to you myself. . . Are you? . . . Oh my god, really? . . . Oh my god! . . . I don't think I can tho. . . Yeah, okay. . . Well, thanks so much. . . Okay. . . Yeah, bye."

And he was just putting it back down when it rang again. Again, it took him by surprise. He picked it up.

"Junkyu?" He said.

" _Yedam, hi."_

Yedam smiled. "Hi."

" _Is it true what I heard?_ "

Yedam bit his lower lip. "What did you hear?"

A chuckle from the other end of the line. " _Come on, Yedam._ "

Yedam chuckled. "Well, if you're talking about the memoir, yes."

_"I am, I am. That's. . . That's really good."_

"You should have done it a long time ago," said Yedam.

Another chuckle. " _You know I can't._ "

_I know. You're too close to the material._

"Well," said Yedam, "I'm gonna send you a copy when it's possible. Then maybe you can help me iron out some. . . _inconsistencies_."

A laugh. " _You can handle it I'm sure."_

Yedam let out an audible chuckle. Then there was a short, momentary pause. Then Junkyu said, " _Well, I just checked really. I'm. . . really happy for you._ "

"Thanks so much, Junkyu," said Yedam, "I'll send your regards to Mashiho."

_"I'd appreciate that very much, thank you."_

"Of course."

" _Okay, I must be disturbing you now. See you when I see you."_

Yedam smiled. "See you. . . You, too. . . Okay, bye."

Yedam put down his phone, front first. He closed his eyes, then inhaled. When he opened his eyes, he smiled ruefully.

 _Sorry, Junkyu_.

**_Busan_ **

After sending the message to his brother, Junkyu sat back down on Jaehyuk's bed and reread the article, making it the fourth time now.

_. . . and the actor will even take us through his early days as a protegé in Wangyu Studios before finally deciding to jump ship. . ._

"Junkyu, is something wrong?" Junkyu heard Jaehyuk say. 

Junkyu looked up. He blinked at Jaehyuk, who was frowning at him.

"Nothing," he finally said, "nothing. Just. . . really happy for Yedam."

"Well, yeah," said Jaehyuk, looking away, "me, too."

"How did Asahi know of this?" said Junkyu. "Did he hear it directly from Yedam?"

"Yeah," said Jaehyuk, "I think so."

Junkyu decided not to pry further. "So Jeongwoo's with. . . Hyunsuk's boy?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah," said Jaehyuk. "I saw him, Junkyu! He's really good looking!"

"What's his name again?"

"Haruto."

"Oh, yeah," said Junkyu, nodding. "Is Asahi on location?"

"Yeah," said Jaehyuk, "but I don't think he'd be up for today's shoot. But they got all the extras ready."

Junkyu laughed at that. "Asahi's the _boyfriend_ , right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, he's definitely not. . . _extra._ I mean he is extra. But in a different sense," Junkyu chuckled.

"Still extra," said Jaehyuk.

Junkyu laughed. "Did you guys fight or something?"

"No," said Jaehyuk, in a tone that totally suggested otherwise. "Wait. You look. . . unusually happy. What happened?"

Junkyu's laugh died off. He blushed. He forced out a chuckle, but didn't say anything. He was saved by Doyoung's reply.

He opened the message. It was a photo. Doyoung was sitting with Yoshinori at a counter by the pool.

Then just as Junkyu was thinking of a reply, he got another message. It was from Yoshinori:

_We're waiting for ü._

And Junkyu didn't even have time to touch the screen when Yoshimori sent another message:

_I'm waiting for u._

Junkyu took a deep breath. He looked at Jaehyuk. "Where did Jeongwoo and his friend go?"

"Shopping," said Jaehyuk. "I think? That's what Jeongwoo said. I think it's that boy Haruto who asked him."

"I'll call him," said Junkyu.

"Junkyu, stop," said Jaehyuk. "You called him already and he said he's fine."

Junkyu sighed. 

"I think Jeongwoo's really having fun," smiled Jaehyuk.

"Well, I really hope so," said Junkyu.

"He does."

After thinking for a few moments and managing to convince himself he shouldn't worry, Junkyu said, "How about we visit the location?"

Jaehyuk stared at him. "You mean. . ."

"Yeah."

"Will they let us in tho?"

. . . _'I'm waiting for u' . . ._

Junkyu gave Jaehyuk a small smile. "Let's go."

A huge smile spread on Yoshinori's face as soon as he saw Junkyu and Yoon Jaehyuk appear by the entrance. He waved his hand and gestured at the security to let them in. Then, just as the security was talking to them, Yoshinori saw Jihoon and Hyunsuk appear behind them.

Yoshinori looked in mild dubiety.

Jihoon was the first to have stepped into the lounging area by the pool. “Where’s Junghwan?” he asked, while also checking the camera beside Yoshinori. 

“Getting a retouch,” answered Yoshinori, his eyes still on Junkyu who was now talking to Hyunsuk. Then Yoshinori looked at Jihoon. “You’ve brought friends.”

Jihoon looked at him, then glanced over his shoulder. But when he turned to look at Yoshinori again, he said, “You guys had lunch yet?”

“Twice,” smiled Yoshinori. He watched Jihoon look around him.

“Where’s Doyoung?”

“How did you know he was here?”

“Junkyu.”

“Oh,” Yoshinori spared another glance toward Junkyu, they were now approaching the lounging area, “with Junghwan.”

Jihoon nodded then disappeared back inside. Yoshinori looked at Junkyu who had now stepped out.

"Hi," greeted Yoshinori, with a big smile.

"Hi," smiled Junkyu. "Where's Doyoung?"

"Inside," said Yoshinori. Junkyu looked around him. "He's fine," chuckled Yoshinori.

Junkyu smiled. 

"You guys had lunch yet?" Yoshinori asked.

"Yeah," said Junkyu, "thanks. Have you?"

Yoshinori nodded. Then to Yoon Jaehyuk, "Hi, Jaehyuk."

Yoon Jaehyuk looked at him with wide eyes. He was quiet for a moment, then, "You know m—you still remember me?"

Yoshinori grinned. "Of course."

The last time Yoshinori saw Yoon Jaehyuk was when Yoshinori and Mashiho came for Junkyu's high school graduation. 

"Well, that's nice," smiled Yoon Jaehyuk, "I'm a fan, by the way! Huge fan!"

"I really appreciate that," said Yoshinori, "thank you so much."

"No, thank you for your music," said Yoon Jaehyuk.

Chuckling, Yoshinori patted Yoon Jaehyuk on the forearm. 

"Junkyu listens to them, too," said Yoon Jaehyuk, "a lot."

Yoshinori looked at Junkyu, who was now staring blankly at Yoon Jaehyuk. Then he looked at Yoshinori. "Of course."

"Yo!"

Startled, Yoshinori looked over Junkyu's shoulder and saw Hyunsuk, who had been talking to the head cameraman, approach. 

Yoshinori flashed a grin. They hugged. 

"No wonder you got so brave last night," whispered Hyunsuk, "you were always going to conceal your shame under those _Ray-Ban_."

Yoshinori laughed a little. "Hey, it's summer."

"But your fans would want to see your eyes," said Hyunsuk, "I mean it's kind of your selling asset."

"This is just for a short sequence of the Music Video," said Yoshinori.

"Ah, well," said Hyunsuk, "you better show 'em tiger gems or you'll have your screenshots in memes. You know fans."

"Too well," said Yoshinori.

"So what do you have here," said Hyunsuk now, "anything that's not _liquorish_."

Yoshinori saw Junkyu scoff. Yoshinori smiled. "Please," he said, leading them inside, "follow me inside."

Yoshinori led them into a spacious room and made them sit at a big circular wood table so thoroughly polished one could be able to see his reflection. In the middle lay a low stack of magazines.

"There's. . . really no need for this, Yoshi," said Junkyu, who looked at Hyunsuk, "we're not _guests_."

"No, it's okay," said Yoshinori, "they have a lot of good stuff here—refreshments. And the like."

"See?" Hyunsuk grinned at Junkyu.

As Yoshinori disappeared into another room, Junkyu watched Jaehyuk reach for a magazine. Junkyu didn't pay it attention. Instead he asked him, "Where is Asahi's location set again?"

But Jaehyuk didn't answer. He was now scanning the magazine with open mouth, and Hyunsuk had even leaned closer to look as well, with a hint of smile.

Junkyu finally looked.

It was the _High-Cut_ issue in which Jihoon was the cover. 

Junkyu looked away and fixed his gaze to the pool outside, looking at it through the glass doors.

Back in New York, Junkyu had completely blocked anything Korean-related. Even his family. Except of course his brother and his closest friends, the only people who did not think he was his family's black sheep.

But Yedam had been the loose knot. He would be Junkyu's source of news, unsolicitedly. It was Yedam, too, who had told Junkyu about Jihoon's cover. And got him a copy of it.

Before Junkyu could fall into yet another trance, Yoshinori reappeared, this time with two men with trays.

When he caught Yoshinori's gaze, Junkyu mouthed 'thank you'.

Yoshinori smiled at him, then as all the glasses of what looked to Junkyu were lemon juices and sliced pies were set, he took a seat next to Junkyu.

"Oh, you got extra?—oh, yeah, Jihoon," chuckled Hyunsuk.

"You always count me out of the picture. . ."

Everybody turned to look at Jihoon, who now had Doyoung with him.

". . . _hyung_."

Hyunsuk laughed. Junkyu saw Doyoung waving at him, Junkyu smiled in acknowledgement.

As the two sat down, Junkyu listened to Hyunsuk say, "Hey, that's not true!"

Junkyu did not dare meet Jihoon's eyes. This was what he'd been fearing to happen since last night. But since it never did, Junkyu had started to believe they were all past this. 

But he'd been right, too. The relief would be short-lived and they would eventually get to this.

Junkyu took a sip of his juice, then started at his pie. He was still full from his and Jaehyuk's lunch, but he needed to stop himself from thinking back to a memory he had long committed to mind.

". . . _I hope this makes you happy. . . I really do. . ."_

"Are you across that scandal with the Senator," Jihoon was speaking now, "quite the drama."

"What scandal?" Yoshinori asked.

"Oh, yeah, I know that," said Jaehyuk, and Junkyu turned to look at him in surprise, "my boyf—Asahi told me about it," he chuckled, "well, he always tells me things."

"Yeah?" said Jihoon. "How did Mr. Hamada know about it?"

"Well, actually, Mr. Park," Jaehyuk began, "before you. . . _cast_ him. . . for So Junghwan's MV, he was supposed to do a commercial. . . but he found out it was sponsored by _that_ Senator."

"Oh," said Jihoon, but there was no surprise in his voice.

And he looked at Junkyu here.

"Yeah," said Jaehyuk, "it was such a bummer. Quite the pay. Supposedly. But yeah, thank god for you."

Jihoon flashed a kind smile, but Junkyu knew better. "I don't think Mr. Hamada really cares about the pay tho."

Jaehyuk chuckled sweetly.

"So yeah, anyway," Jihoon said, "I know of the same story. Someone setting up someone."

"Oh?" said Jaehyuk.

Before continuing, Jihoon took a bite of his pie. He chewed. Everybody was waiting. "He was an Intern," Jihoon went on, "at a certain company. . . But then one day he was called to the _office_. The Boss' office. . . Then the next thing he knew. . . He was being accused of leaking something to the public. . . forcing him to leave said company. . ."

"Oh, wow," Jaehyuk chuckled in mild disbelief, ". . . is that. . . real story, Mr. Park?"

And Junkyu's heart pounded harder when Hyunsuk answered, "It is."

Junkyu glanced at him, at Hyunsuk. He was not looking at him, but at Jihoon. And he had a small smile on his lips.

Junkyu swallowed. Then he stood up. "Excuse me."

Junkyu walked out of there then asked a woman at the counter where he could go for the bathroom. She pointed him the way and Junkyu locked himself in.

The memory of that day had just been unsealed. And it now played in Junkyu's mind with such clarity he could be standing in the very office himself now.

His grandfather was sitting at the table. Jihoon was standing in front of him, Junkyu behind him. Mashiho was sitting on a chair just beside the door Junkyu was blocking.

" _. . . And I suggest you resign instead, Mr. Park,"_ Junkyu's grandfather was saying. " _It will save us all the. . . embarrassment."_

Junkyu was looking down. He'd been shaking at that point.

 _". . . May I know,"_ Jihoon had said, " _where you got the_ proof _, Mr. Lee_?"

And Junkyu's grandfather had said, ". . . _Junkyu, let Mr. Choi in."_

**_Gangnam_ **

Yedam's phone rang. He looked at the caller I.D. Then, smiling, he put the phone against his ear.

"You're obsessed with this," Yedam said, "you just called me for the second time today."

**_Busan_ **

Hyunsuk smiled as he walked out into the lounging area by the pool, glass of Juice in one hand, his phone on the other.

"Hello again, too, Yedam," he said, chuckling, "tell me. . .

He took a sip of his juice.

". . . how's the book going?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can binge-watch 'Faint' while I construct a time-machine. I highly reco it! x)
> 
> Oh and about the end of this chapter?
> 
> Ah, well. What can I say. Leader Choi and his giggles. Pretty distracting.


End file.
